


For the Motherland

by batzulger



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Red Star
Genre: Comic, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 69,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3765097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batzulger/pseuds/batzulger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slayer faces a different reality and a different kind of war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Motherland

**Author's Note:**

> The World of the Red Star created and masterminded by Chris Gossett and Archangel Studio. BtVS Property Mutant Enemy. Natasha is mine though.

**Natasha**

Natasha Ivanovna Plekhanova lived a simple life out on the edges of the Eastern Waste of the United Republics of the Red Star. She had a small house which she used as a base, spending a great deal of her time running the lines of traps she had set for fox and sable. She slept most nights out under the stars. Only returning home when her sledge, in the winter, or her travois, in the summer, was full. 

Once home she spent her time cleaning the hides and preparing them for the traders that came by the town of Shrokyoi Pyatna that was two days travel from her house. Not that Shrokyoi Pyatna was much of a town. Three buildings. One a bar, one a general store, and one a train station for the trains that thundered by.

When she got to town on her twice yearly trips, she scrupulously avoided talking to anyone except the lead trader and the proprietor of the general store. The trader to make a deal for her pelts, the storekeeper to purchase the few supplies she needed. Ammunition for her rifle and shotgun, salt, a large bag of sugar, wool yarn, a single bottle of vodka. She made sure to arrive on the rainiest or coldest days she could to keep from accidentally meeting fellow travelers in passing and never removed her hat or her scarf. In the store she asked for things by pointing with one gloved hand and she always merely nodded or shook her head during the negotiations with the traders.

The quality of her furs was always excellent and she paid the store in gold so neither trader nor storekeeper bothered her with any talking. Most individuals had no idea of her name or gender and simply called her "Ochotnyk", "The Trapper". Sometimes a bright young fool would get the idea that there might be even more gold wherever she lived or on her person. They would follow her into the vast woods and if they were lucky, would merely get lost and not killed by the weather or wildlife.

At home she spent her time making and repairing her clothes with bone needles and gut thread or knitting socks and mitten liners, preparing her hides, tending her small garden, and hoping that eventually some of her memories would fade.

Each night, whether she was on the hunt or at her small cabin, she said a prayer to Pravda the Goddess and Spirit of Truth, so that she would protect those that had fallen where Natasha had not. Every New Year and Mid-Summer's Eve she opened up a bottle of vodka and drank it dry while toasting her fallen comrades and weeping. The next morning, still red-eyed and sick, she would head out to the woods and begin trapping again.

And so she lived. Solitary and sad amid the beautiful desolation of the Eastern Wastes. Occasionally members of the Red Fleet would pass through her area on training and survival exercises, but they never knew she or her cabin were there. She made well sure of that. But even those intrusions were extremely rare. Where she was, no one else wanted to be. It really was as simple as that.

 

That said, it was no wonder that she was completely surprised to find the body of a young woman, naked and badly burned, laying in the snow across her path.

 

 

**The Burned Woman**

The body on the the snow was of a young woman who had been quite terribly burned. She was not completely naked, there being scorched fragments of cloth at her neck and ankles as well as fragments of a bra and panties preserving some of her modesty.

Natasha immediately dropped into a crouch and readied her rifle. There was steam rising from the snow next to the body so it was still warm at the very least. Whoever had dropped it here might still be close by. The trapper waited, listening for the slightest sound, but all that was audible was the faint trilling of winter birds and the sighing of the wind.

She moved up to the body and, stripping off one of her rabbit fur lined gloves, checked for signs of life. There was a pulse, weak and thready though it might be, it was there and proved that life still remained in the damaged body before her.

Thinking quickly, Natasha pulled her sledge up next to the ravaged body, and clearing a space among the skins, gently picked up the the smaller form and laid her in the newly formed pocket of fur. Then she covered her with the pelt she had removed to make the pocket, put her shoulders in the sledge's yoke, and turning, began skiing as rapidly as possible back to her cabin.

When she arrived home she took her precious cargo inside and unrolling one of her bear skins lay the woman on it before covering her with several wolf hides. Then she put a copper pot on the fire and added some more wood and twigs to the embers causing the flames to leap up. Some snow was added to the pot, and soon the water was boiling nicely she added a some rags of rough home spun and let them boil as well. 

While they were being sterilized she went to an old battered metal trunk labeled Plekhanova N.I. and embossed with the symbol of the Red Fleet. Even though she had not opened it in almost twenty years, she remembered the location of every item it contained in its neatly packed interior. Lifting out and putting aside her armor and her hook, she removed a standard Red Fleet issue trauma management kit. The 'Protocol Active' symbols glowed faintly blue, a tribute to the power of some forgotten supply kaster. 

Natasha broke the seals with her thumbs and flipped the lid back. She felt the tingle of protocol energy dissipating as the sterile environment was breeched in the first compartment. Moving carefully she wrapped the burned woman in the enhanced trauma sheets. One for each leg and arm, two for her torso, and one for her head.The protocol infused fabric would relieve the pain, prevent infection, and promote healing. At least that was what it was supposed to do. It still couldn't work miracles or bring the dead back to life.

As she wrapped her patient, Natasha checked her over for any other injuries. Her face and head had been exposed to extreme heat and in some place the flesh had been turned to ash. Her left eye had been boiled out of her skull, and you could plainly see the bone of her jaw through what was her left cheek. The back of her head was not nearly as badly damaged, as her hair had probably protected it from the temperature, at least initially. All the hair on her body was gone of course and the skin, under where her clothes would have been, was charred in places and reddened in all others.

The only places that did not receive burns were her feet. Her pant and shoes, though destroyed, had protected those at least. They were small and surprisingly delicate looking, but patches of what looked like blood had been baked on to the tops. The backs of her hand were burned as well, but her palms were unharmed except for traces of old scars.

When the wrapping was completed, Natasha rocked back on her heals and closed the trauma kit after removing a protocol syringe of plasma and administering it to the injured woman. The plasma injected. Natasha got up and fished out the rags she had boiling. Twirling them to cool to a handleable temperature, she cleaned her hands and set her tea kettle on the fire. 

As she sipped her tea, she looked over at her patient who was still unconscious. Checking her pulse showed that it was stronger and more regular.

 

"So little one, what am I to do with you?"

 

 

**Consciousness**

The burned woman stayed unconscious for two days. The trauma wraps would last for a week before they needed to be replaced, but it had been drilled into Natasha's head during her first aid training that the wounded should be checked on an hourly basis and be given plasma or other fluids for the wrap's protocols to work with. 

If she had been a medikaster she could have done more, but as a simple trooper a trauma kit was the limit of her abilities. Checking the kit revealed she had enough wraps and plasma for at least another week. Even with the protocol expanded storage there was a limit to how much material you could contain in a palm sized case.

The end of the second day Natasha was sipping her tea and staring at the fire when a small sigh emerged from the burned woman. Putting her cup down, the trapper moved over to her patient's side to see a green eye staring back at her.

 

"So you're awake," Natasha murmured. The eye blinked and it was obvious that the woman heard her.

 

"So what happened to you?" Natasha asked as she carefully lifted the wrappings on the face to check the progress of the healing and gasped in surprise, The left eye was still gone, but the gaping hole in the cheek had filled in with shiny looking flesh. She had known trauma wraps could save lives, but this level and speed of healing was unheard of. 

She looked under other sections of the wraps and saw that same incredible rate of healing had occurred. The skin looked relatively healthy on those spots though. Probably due to the fact that they had not been so seriously injured in comparison with the woman's face.

The woman mumbled something in a language that sounded like strangely accented Lion. Natasha as a prima ballerina, before she began growing to her current six foot height, had been tapped for the State's Touring Company and had actually seen something of the peaceful world outside the the Lands of the Red Star. She had visited Stone City, the capital of the Isle of Lions, and performed for their Queen and had learned a little of their language.

 

"Who you?" she said. Her tongue tripping over the unfamiliar language.

 

"Buffy," the burned woman rasped back. "Who are you? Where am I?"

 

"You in Vostochny Styepy. I Natasha. How you get here? How hurt?"

 

The green eye blinked and the brow furrowed, "I don't know what Vossnocky Steepy is so I'm really not all that sure-ish how I got here. As for hurt, I was saving the world. It's an occupational hazard," she tried lifting her arm and noticed the trauma wraps. "I'm not being mummified am I?"

 

"Moomifyed?" Natasha sounded out the strange word.

 

"Wrapped in bandages prior to being stuffed in a tomb or a pyramid."

 

"Mummya? Dead wrapped cloth?"

 

Buffy nodded and winced at the effort, "Yup, dead wrapped in cloth. That accent, are you Russian?"

 

"I Roossiyan?" Natasha pointed at herself. "Nyet. I Krasnaya Zvezda. Ahh...Red Star," she made a sweeping gesture with her arm, "This all Red Star."

 

"Oh god where am I? Where's Dawn? Willow? Xander or Giles? Oh my god, Spike!" The burned woman was starting to panic. Natasha had seen the signs often enough on troopers newly arrived in a combat zone. She tried holding the woman down but she was far stronger than her slight frame would lead one to believe. In fact if it wasn't for her weakened condition, Natasha wasn't sure she would have been able to restrain her. After a moment of Natasha basically lying on top of her Buffy calmed down.

 

"I'm sorry," she rasped. "I shouldn't have lost it."

 

Natasha was confused, "What missing?"

 

"Huh? Oh! My self-control. I should have stayed calm. What is calm in your language? You know, relaxed, peaceful."

 

"Calm? That spokoystviyeh. Peaceful? That Mirnyiy. I no know Reelaxed."

 

"Mirnyiy is peaceful?"

 

"Da, yes."

 

"I should have stayed mirnyiy then. I am really sorry."

 

"It fine. Seen when soldat. You soldat?" her being a soldier would explain a lot. Natasha thought to herself.

 

"Soldat like soldier?" Buffy asked. At Natasha's affirmative nod Buffy nodded as well.

 

"Yes I was a 'soldat. I probably still am actually. I was just in a war."

 

Natasha nodded knowingly, "Burns pohjahra gyel."

 

"Who's poor Jerry?"

 

Natasha pointed at the the flames in the fireplace, "Pohjahr."

 

"Fire gel then?" at Natasha's nod, Buffy thought for a moment then shook her head. "No, there was a blinding ball of light. No gel, jello, jelly, or jam involved," she looked at her cloth wrapped arm, "And I'm pretty sure I didn't ask the Turok-han to throw homemade burning jalapeño-apricot preserves on me."

 

"No understand. My skill your speech poor," was Natasha's only possible response to this bizarre train of verbiage.

 

"I'm sorry Natasha," Buffy sounded contrite, "I'm fairly sure you saved my life, but it seems pretty certain that I'm not from anywhere around here.

 

 

**History**

Slowly over the next few days the pair managed to piece together a pidgin dialect so that they could communicate a little more easily. Apparently Buffy had been involved in a huge underground battle against some sort of spirit as far as Natasha could figure out. One of her companions had sacrificed himself to stop the spirit's material forces and had channeled the power of the sun itself through him. That explained the burns as Buffy had been wounded and collapsed near him unable to get clear of the release of such energies.

It sounded to Natasha that this Spike individual had managed to trigger a Transformation protocol, and that Buffy had been near the edge of the effect. As the Red Fleet used such protocols as bombardment weapons from their sky-furnaces, the burned woman was quite lucky to be alive, even if she was just on the fringe of such a blast.

 

"So this Spike's shchertva...uh sacri-fice?" she looked over at Buffy for confirmation of the word and received an answering nod, "Sacri-fice created explosion that sent you here?"

 

"I think so Tasha. There was a lot of power released from that amulet. I've never seen anything like it. So terrifying and beautiful."

 

"Yes," Natasha thought, "Exactly like a transformation protocol."

 

Buffy continued over Natasha's thoughts, "When can I get these wraps off? I need to pee."

 

"Pee?"

 

"Uh bathroom...I need one now?"

 

"Oh mochitsya! You need to pee? Khorosho, means wrap's duty done. Protocols finished," she helped Buffy to her feet and carefully peeled off the now inert pieces of fabric.

 

Buffy's new skin was pink and soft and the only traces remaining of the damage were her lack of hair and the left side of her face. It looked far too waxy and rippled to be healthy but the fact that there was any flesh there at all was close to astounding. Normally the wraps would have sealed the edges but the gaping hole would have remained. Worse though was her left eye.

Instead of a green match to her right, it was solid black as though it were entirely pupil. Natasha gasped slightly and carefully covered the right one with the palm of her hand.

 

"What you see now?" she asked.

 

Buffy gasped too, "I see you slightly glowing. Like there is a red flame in you. The rest of the room looks dim and shadowy."

 

"You see spirit. Eye of Imbohl," Natasha pulled her hand away from Buffy's normal right eye.

 

"Imbohl? Who's that?" Buffy was alternately closing one than the other of her eyes. Each time she closed her right eye she looked at either Natasha or stared at her own hands or body, "Weird."

 

"He old leader...No, not right word...Sozdatel...means...Creator! Da, that correct. Creator of Red Star."

 

"But I thought the Red Star was really old?"

 

"Da, so Imbohl also very very old. Powerful kaster. Maybe most powerful ever."

 

"So these kasters," Buffy stopped blinking and looked at Natasha, "They use protocols. And these protocols are like magic?"

 

"No, science. Akademy and Iron Citadel research protocols for Red Fleet. Train troopers in use of hook."

 

"Hook?"

 

Natasha moved over to her trunk and opened it then called her hook to her hand. It was a rod like device, covered with many small catches and devices and only three foot long collapsed. As it rose noiselessly in the air it unlocked and extended to its full six foot length and finally stopped to hover beside Natasha.

 

"Wow!" Buffy whispered.

 

"This hook. Weapon of Red Trooper. It is...telekinesis neutral. Even simple recruit can use after training," the hook floated alongside Natasha as she crossed the room and stood next to Buffy.

 

Buffy reached over and grabbed the hook. It felt anchored in thin air. "Seriously Tasha, Wow!"

 

"You need clothes," Natasha turned and headed to a large cabinet and searched through it till she found a wool dress. "Put on."

 

Buffy let go of the hook, which remained floating, and walking over, slipped on the offered garment. It was far too large, but Natasha pulled out a box of bone pins and soon had marked out where it needed to be adjusted.

 

"Get in bed, stay warm. This not take long," she pointed at the indicated place,and then sat in her tailoring chair and quickly began ripping seams and resewing them to fit.

 

Buffy slipped under the bearskin coverlet and was immediately warmer, "Tasha, why are you out here all alone?"

 

Natasha stopped her sewing and her hook lowered itself to the floor, "I do not deserve live with others. I did a thing that I can not answer for."

 

"Like what? You saved my life. You don't seem like a bad person."

 

"I lived. Others died. I should have died with them."

 

"What? You isolate yourself because you were lucky enough not to die? Look, I know something about dying and sacrifice and they both suck."

 

"Suck?"

 

"Uh, are bad and unpleasant but are sometimes necessary?"

 

"Da I understand. It called duty."

 

"Or destiny. I know all about that. How you can't fight it, but you can change it by changing the rules."

 

"Changing rules? Like cheating?"

 

"Well yeah," Buffy admitted, "Kind of like cheating, but in a way so that everybody wins...more or less."

 

Natasha returned to her sewing then spoke, "I was a Starshyna. A Senior Sergeant aboard Sky-Furnace Dmitri Prokiev. We were at Battle of Kar Dathra's Gate. My platoon was on ground when Kar Dathra called forth the power of the land and destroyed the fleet.

 

"Al-Nistaani soldiers, hidden by Kar Dathra's power, killed all but one out of every fifty. That one was spared so that they would return home and tell what they had seen. I was one of those schastlivyi...lucky...ones.

 

"I pleaded that they take me and not a draftee. I had enlisted. All I heard was the laughter of shadows, and the crying of children, just barely able to shave, dying. 

 

"I was not much older, only twenty three, but they called me the grown-up and babushka. They counted on me to protect. I failed."

 

Buffy looked over at the tall dark haired woman sewing away on the dress, "I'm twenty-two. When I was fifteen I was called upon to save the world from things that shouldn't exist. For the last seven years I have fought against impending doom and apocalypse. People have died that I couldn't save. Recently that spirit I was talking about? It tried to kill all of a particular type of young girls so its power could spread across my world. I fought it alongside a lot of those girls and I won. At least I think I won. In the process though a lot of those girls died. They didn't enlist, they were chosen through no fault of their own. Some died while I lived. I'm here now so I didn't die in that final battle either, but I saw some of those girls die in front of me. Girls so young, that some of them had never been kissed.

 

"You survived for a reason Tasha. Maybe it was to find me in the woods and save my life, but there was a reason."

 

Natasha looked over and saw the two disparate eyes, one green and one black, boring through her.

 

"Spacibo...uh, thank you for your kind words...But, I still do not feel...permitted to be among others."

 

"Now you're just being of the silly and the stubborn. I know that feeling oh too well."

 

"Shto?"

 

"That's 'What?' right? I had been do-it-alone girl a lot over the years. Don't let others get involved they could get hurt...that kind of thing. Problem is, I kept running into people that insisted on helping me with stuff I couldn't handle on my own. People who were willing to risk dying and worse. And silly me I kept trying to push them away...and power through it by myself. Then I kept finding that those people were why I had lived as long as I had and been as successful at protecting the world as I had, and I started accepting their help and...their sacrifices. I was always more willing to risk my life over their's, but I knew that they knew what the risks were and that whether they had a choice in the matter was immaterial. The had a job to do and they did it.

 

"It sounds like your guys were the same way Tasha. A lot of them didn't want to be there, but they were there and they were going to do their job."

 

"Da...none of us wanted to be there. Just old men far from a battlefield. It was under orders...his orders."

 

"Sounds scarily familiar," Buffy replied with an arch tone to her voice, " I assume the 'his' refers to this Umbrella guy?"

 

"Imbohl. Do not make light of him. He old, but vastly powerful," Natasha looked up and raised the dress towards Buffy, "Here, try on."

 

Buffy slipped out from under the cozy covers and pulled the dress on over her head. Natasha had worked wonders and it was close to a perfect fit.

 

"I make you boot tomorrow. I should have enough leather, and Buffy..."

 

"Yes?"

 

"Thank you."

 

"For what?"

 

"Listening to old woman prattle."

 

"Old woman? Where?" Buffy looked around the amazonian trapper then grinned, "No problem Tasha, and by the way, can you make a set of pants from that leather?"

 

 

**Learning**

Buffy had tired quickly and gone back to sleep while Natasha carefully assembled a pair of soft leather boots and a pair of carefully stitched leather pants. She used deer hide for the pants and the boot's uppers and a nice thick piece of hide from a wild boar for the boot's soles. It was simple repetitive work stitching and she used her telekinesis to help force the needle through the tanned leather, making the process painless and quick.

For shirts, she cut apart on old dark blue, almost black linen dress that had been too small for her and used the fabric of the skirt and bodice to make a pair of loose buttoned tops. The final stiching was done on her ancient treadle operated sewing machine as the light of dawn broke through the isinglass windows.

Buffy was awoken by the rhythmic 'creak, creak' of the treadle and the rapid tapping of the needle as it hooked the bobbin thread.

 

"Good morning Tasha!" she yawned as she swung out of bed and slipped on the resized dress for warmth. She shivered slightly as her feet hit the cold floor causing her to scurry over in front of the fire. "You're awake early-ish."

 

"Dobroe utro. I not awake early. I simply not sleep."

 

"What? I mean Shto? That's not good or healthy!"

 

"Heealthy?"

 

"Not sick?"

 

"Ne bolno mean not sick. Word like heealthy would be...zdorovyi I think."

 

"No matter what the word is staying awake like that can't be good for you. I mean you have stuff to do instead of taking care of me. What I'm asking is, how can I help out around here?"

 

"No help. You rest. Get strong."

 

"I am strong," with that statement Buffy walked over to the much taller and heavier Natasha and almost casually lifted her out of her chair then carefully set her back down.

 

Natasha looked at her house guest in surprise, "You have telekinesis too?"

 

"No, just muscle and speed, and I heal really fast. My best friend Willow. She's got all the mojo."

 

"Mojo?"

 

"Magic, spells, witchcraft..."

 

"Ah, koldovstvo. She is a kaster then."

 

"Yeah, I'd guess you could say that. Anyway I don't have the TK...telekinesis thing that you do. Not many people where I'm from have that. Only witches and sorcery types."

 

"We have ved'm...witches. In old stories told to children. Now we have voennyi-koldovstvo. You would call military-sorcery. All researched by state.

 

"This is a much different place than where I'm from. Most people don't believe that koldovstvo...That's sorcery right?...even exists."

 

"I have never heard of United States or California. Across ocean from Island of Lions is Western Transnational Alliance. They supply weapons and protocols to Al-Nistaan when URRS fight them. Battle has been going on between WTA and the State since end of Second Conflict."

 

"So the Red Star is Russia or really the Soviet Union, the WTA is the USA and the Cold War is still going with an immortal Stalin behind the scenes..." Buffy pondered out loud. "Tasha, this is close to my world, really close. What year is it?"

 

"1971. It will be 1972 in about a week."

 

"How are years figured? I mean what was year zero?"

 

"It holdover from Church. It start at year of death of Risen Son."

 

"Risen Son huh, does this symbol mean anything to you?" Buffy drew a cross in the soot on the fireplace.

 

"Two crossed lines?"

 

"What's the symbol for the Church of the Risen Son?"

 

Natasha got up and next to Buffy's cross drew an inverted 'L', "This. It symbolize gallows he hung from."

 

"Like I said," Buffy grinned, "This world is very close to mine. In my world the equivalent of the Risen Son died at 32 years old and he was crucified. Nailed to a cross shaped like that." She pointed at her drawing. "We figure years from the year of his birth. It was 2003 when I left my world. Here it's 1971...a difference of 32 years. The seasons are different but I'll take all the similarity I can get."

 

"I think I see. If our worlds are so close. You think you can get back?"

 

"I have no idea Tasha. I don't know how exactly I got here and I showed up almost dead. Until I can avoid the almost dead part I think I'm going to table any ask-age on that."

 

"I think I almost understand what you say. It strange dialect of Lion."

 

Buffy looked embarrassed, "Yeah...uh about me helping out around here. I need to exercise. Do you have snow needing shoveling, wood needing the choppy stuff? I'm great with an axe. Anything at all?"

 

"You not go outside until I finish boots and pants. Now you can sweep and dust. Light work only," Natasha put on a stern expression, "Understand pchelka?"

 

"Pchelka?"

 

"It mean small bug...bee. You flit around, very energetic...like bee."

 

"Oh cool I got a nickname!" Buffy ran over to Tasha and gave the older woman a hug around the neck, "Thank you for everything Tasha, now where's the broom?"

 

As Natasha finished sewing, Buffy swept and dusted the small cabin. So, by the end of the day and Natasha had placed the last stitch in the second shirt, the two rooms were immaculate and dust free.

Natasha presented the new clothes to Buffy along with a resized pair of underwear and some warm socks, "Here, try on."

 

In just a few minutes Buffy was lacing up her new boots, then dropped into the splits to check out the flexibility of the pants. They were strongly stitched so there was only the slight noise of leather creaking and no tearing or ripping sounds.

 

"They're wonderful Tasha! You're wonderful!" she hugged the woman again then leapt into the air, landed in a handstand, and began doing push-ups. First both handed, then one-armed while still solely balancing on that same arm.

 

"Take slow Pchelka. You just heal. Do not damage so soon after I fix."

 

Buffy nodded and got to her feet, "I understand Tasha." She took up a strange standing posture and began moving her body and arms in a stylized dance-like pattern. 

 

"What that?"

 

"It's called Tai-Chi," Buffy answered while still continuing her pattern of movement. "An old boyfriend taught it to me. It's a Chinese style of unarmed combat and exercise promoting, flexibility, balance, and harmony.

 

"Lands of Dragon have styles like that," Natasha mused thoughtfully. She watched for a moment more then began copying Buffy's poses and moves. 

 

Buffy glanced over and seeing the woman mimicking her motions, returned to the first position, "This is the preparation stance of the first set of the Yang family form, from here you move into the Open Water Gate, then Grasp Sparrows Tail Ward Off Left, then Grasp Sparrows Tail Ward Off Right..." as she spoke she moved through the positions in slow motion, allowing Natasha to see exactly how one pose flowed into the next. Natasha watched carefully and began following along also in slow motion. Occasionally Buffy would call stop and guide her body, legs, and arms into the proper position before calling start again.

After they had run through the entire first set twice Buffy called a stop because as she said, "I'm dying of starvation and also I have to pee!"

 

Natasha told her where the outhouse was and Buffy ran outside bundled in one of Natasha's fur coats, while Natasha began making some roast boar and turnip stew. By the time Buffy got back inside the water had started boiling.

 

"It's started to snow again," Buffy said as she stomped off the fresh powder that had stuck to her boots.

 

"Da. This time always happens. Blizzard blow through. Must stay inside until stop. Plenty of food and wood. No problem."

 

"Well at least there'll be plenty of time to talk and stuff."

 

"I use time to sew. Fix things. Prepare hides."

 

"Guess I'm going to be learning to do that too," Buffy answered with a smile.

 

"You will," Natasha answered with another smile.

 

After dinner Natasha made a warm pallet for Buffy out of some of her fur stockpile, and as the icy winds howled outside the two women slept.

 

 

**A Meeting**

The blizzard lasted a week and when the winds finally stopped and the sun came out, shining clear over a land of white, both women were ecstatic.

Buffy had been learning to sew and in return had been teaching Natasha Tai Chi. Natasha responded with moves from Bersk, the unarmed combat method of the Red Fleet. Even though Buffy had told her she was fine, Natasha was leery of actually using her strength on this woman who was half her size.

This feeling lasted until she actually got her hands on Buffy and quickly found herself flying through the air.

 

"I am not made of porcelain and I won't break. Now try it for real," were the short woman's only words.

 

So Natasha came back and tried it for real and was thrown again, The next time she used her telekinesis to amplify her strength and a pleased expression came over Buffy's scarred face, "Now that's better!"

 

The sparring got more and more aggressive and when they were finally able to get outside Natasha was amazed at Buffy's speed and endurance. Even with telekinetic reinforcement Natasha could only barely compete with her raw power, and she had been ranked as an Engine Pull Champion during the Red Fleets annual inter-unit competitions!

Eventually Buffy cut down a small pine and after trimming it to staff size, asked for Natasha to use her hook against her. With guards firmly attached over the blades at each end the former Red Fleet Sergeant stood across from her much shorter opponent, hook hovering alongside her at full six foot extension.

 

"You want to warm up?" Buffy asked. "It sounded like you hadn't used it for awhile."

 

"Da," Natasha agreed. Slowly at first and then with increasing speed she went through the standard manual of arms. Mind only lunges and slashes. Then body only repeats of the same blows. Then Mind and body combinations. Defensive spins designed to deflect even fast-moving projectiles like bullets or shrapnel, the hook a blur of motion. Throws, both telekinetic and muscle powered, of the hook as a spear. Finally she completed the routine and stood at parade rest, her hook still floating next to her.

 

Buffy's applause broke through her concentration, "That was so amazing! Can all the peeps...soldats in the Red Fleet do that?"

 

"Many can. Not all. All can do first strikes and first throws of course. Defense spin and Mind and Body sochetanie...mixture? No, I study hard to learn such things."

 

"So you're one of the best?"

 

"Nyet. Many better than me. I sure of that. I only old woman in woods...old soldier. Young ones surely better."

 

"You're not old Tasha. Anyway, I don't want to ever fight anybody who's close to being as good as you are."

 

"So you have second thoughts?" Natasha grinned and nodded towards Buffy's staff.

 

"Huh, let me think...No!" and Buffy leaped in with a vicious swing. Natasha easily blocked it and the fight was on.

 

Buffy was easily faster than the bigger woman and stronger as well and was a master of combat. Natasha was a gifted telekinetic who at one time had been one of the top ranked hook fighters in the Red Fleet. Buffy's staff was splintered in the first few minutes but even with the loss of her weapon Buffy didn't back down. Natasha used her ability to disengage while Buffy was a blocking a hook strike and then calling the weapon back to her when she had reached a more advantageous position to great effect, while Buffy used her speed and reaction time to evade blows in ways Natasha never would have thought humanly possible. Eventually the older woman started to tire while Buffy looked ready to keep going.

 

"Prekratite! I surrender! You win!" the exhausted ex-Sergeant gasped while raising her hands and laughing. Buffy, who was in mid-leap against a now inert hook, kept going on a sliding landing into a snow drift.

 

"Fmmink!" came a muffled yell from inside the drift. Soon Buffy's snow covered bald head popped out, "You did that on purpose!"

 

"I sorry Pchelka. I not mean you to crash," unfortunately the situation caused Natasha to start laughing harder, "I said I old woman, need rest."

 

"I'll give you rest you...Somebody's here."

 

Natasha's hook snapped into defensive posture as she carefully scanned the wood line around the cabin, "Where?"

 

Buffy had picked up the axe from the log splitting stump and gestured with one hand towards a large tree. Natasha nodded and hook floating beside her, carefully moved to the left while Buffy crept over from the right.

Behind the tree was a wizened old woman picking up sticks and twigs that wind had blown down.

 

"Ah, there you two are! Could you please give an old woman some assistance in gathering firewood?"

 

"Kto ty?" Natasha asked.

 

"Who am I? she asks. I am merely someone with aches and pains running through all my old bones. Did your parents not teach you respect for your elders? Shameful."

 

"Tasha, I'm getting a weird tingle off of her," Buffy muttered.

 

"I would be very surprised if you didn't Buffy Henryovna. One such as you need be alert to those things that cannot be easily explained."

 

"How do you know my name and what's this 'Henryovna' thing?"

 

"Was your father's name Hen-er-y?" Natasha spoke up, getting nervous as stories her parents had told her as a little girl started flowing through her mind.

 

"Well yeah, everybody called him Hank though."

 

"That your patronym. Mine Ivanovna. My father's name Ivan. If I boy, it Ivanovich."

 

"Eww does it have to be my dad, I'd rather be called after my mother."

 

"Very well Buffy Joycovna, as you wish," the old woman responded with a toothless grin.

 

"How do you know my parent's names?" Buffy was becoming more agitated.

 

"Pchelka," Natasha whispered placing a calming hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "You not want to get this one angry. She more than she seem."

 

"You always were a clever one Natasha Ivanovna," the old woman cackled. "Come along you two, there is much to discuss and don't forget the firewood." She turned and walked into the snow covered forest.

 

"Tasha what's going on?" Buffy was looking straight at the woman with her green eye closed. "She has no fire inside."

 

"If she wish us dead, we stripped to bones and on her fence. We must follow."

 

"Who is she?"

 

"Grandmother Pain, Baba Yaga."

 

 

**Journey Proposed**

"There's a witch called Baba Yaga where I'm from."

 

"How that possible Pchelka?"

 

"Not a clue Tasha. I am completely clue deficient."

 

The two women picked up a stack of firewood each and followed the old woman through the winter woods. The trio finally arrived at a small hut surrounded by a rickety looking fence. Stopping at the gate the old woman looked over at the round window and doorless building and striking her cane on the ground cried out, "Hut, khizhiny, povorachivatʹsya spinoĭ klesu, perednyuyu mne!"

The plain hut raised itself on large chicken legs and turned ponderously in a circle then settled down again. Now though, there was a door facing the fence's gate.

 

Baba Yaga swung open the gate with a clatter, "Come along you two and bring the wood." She walked quickly to the door and disappeared into the hut.

 

Buffy nudged Natasha, "Take a close look at the fence."

 

Natasha looked down and saw it was made of cunningly interlocked human bones with skulls as the post tops. She shuddered involuntarily and looked back at Buffy, "We could try to run?"

 

"How far would we get?" Buffy asked.

 

"True. Into death's maw then," with that she walked through the gate and up into the hut, Buffy following. Inside the hut was one large room divided into sections by an manner of things. Stacks of bones, bookshelves, wooden boxes, stuffed beasts, and ornate but decaying furniture. There was a central firepit with a large ornately carved rocking chair in front of it. Baba Yaga sat in that chair and pointed to a large bin next to the fire, "Place the wood in there girls, and please sit," she indicated two wooden stools across from her.

 

Buffy and Natasha deposited the loads of wood into the bin and sat down in front of her. Natasha collapsed her hook and laid it on the floor next to her while Buffy did the same with the axe she was carrying.

The old woman lit her pipe and inhaled deeply. The smell of strong tobacco filled the room.

 

"There are many worlds, but you knew that already my dear," she pointed at Buffy with her pipe stem. Buffy nodded.

 

"I live on many of them. Why? How? Does it really matter?" she took another few puffs on her pipe and blew an iridescent smoke ring. "I am not permitted to tell you all, but I can say that your battle succeeded better than your wildest dreams Buffy Joycovna. Your sister and your friends are safe and well and that which you fought has been banished. Gnashing its teeth all the way to the hell that spawned it. Your final sacrifice of power turned the balance. To all your friends and family you died a hero."

 

"So I'm dead? I've been dead before and this doesn't feel like it."

 

"Oh no my child, you are not dead. Merely cast off from your world by the power of a dead man with a soul. The power your beau wielded in the last moments of his...life was more than sufficient to rupture the boundaries between your world and this."

 

"So can I get back?"

 

"I do not know, can you?" the old woman looked unblinkingly into Buffy's eyes and the younger woman turned away nervously.

 

Baba Yaga took another puff on her pipe, "You have caused a stir in the powers of this land child. Your presence was unexpected and in some quarters unwanted, and none but I know who and what you are. There is a darkness that is alien to this land. It comes from manipulation of things better left unbothered. I know you have experience in countering such?"

 

Buffy nodded, "Too much experience."

 

"Well then, this should be simple. All you must do is follow the streak of fire in the sky. You will be able to see it with your good eye. That streak will lead you to a man and that man will lead you to a problem. Solve this simple problem and I will see about returning you back to your home."

 

"My good eye?"

 

Baba Yaga smiled and pointed at the black orb, "That one. It will show many truths that wish to be hidden," she leaned back and tapped her chin thoughtfully, "But there are those that will recognize it for what it is and will be...uncharitable to its possessor. Ah! I have just the thing!"

 

The old woman rose from her chair and shuffled to an overstuffed cabinet of curiosities. Searching in it for a few minutes she gave a small cry of delight and produced a small object.

"There you are my child," she presented a worn gray leather eye patch to Buffy with a flourish. "Place that over your good eye and no means known to man will be able to penetrate its secret. You will of course, not be able to see past it with that eye. Now what do I give you Natasha Ivanova?"

 

"Nothing please. I need nothing."

 

"That is a patent falsehood and you know it my dear. I know! You will accompany your your young friend on this journey and assist her. When it is over, I will see if I can arrange a very special meeting for you."

 

"A meeting? With who?" Natasha was puzzled.

 

"Ah ah," Baba Yaga waggled her finger, "That would be telling. Please allow an old woman a simple surprise. I will say that you will be in no danger from this meeting."

 

'But..."

 

"Think very carefully what your next words will be my dear."

 

Natasha froze. The old woman's tone had shifted ever so slightly from playful to menacing.

 

"I will be happy to assist Buffy," the ex-Sergeant looked as calm as possible.

 

"Wonderful! I knew you would help. You are such a good daughter. I know your parents will be proud of you," Baba Yaga returned to the cabinet and rooted around in it some more.

 

"Now, here is some gold to help you on your way," she handed Natasha a small leather pouch that was heavy and jingled dully, "and for you my dear," she handed Buffy a small metal rod about an inch and a half in diameter and four inches long.

 

"What is it?" Buffy asked.

 

"Oh many things, all of which you are an expert with. Now you two, I am getting sleepy and need my rest. So shoo!" 

 

With that word the two women found themselves standing in a empty patch of snow with only their footprints leading into it. Buffy covered her eye and looked up into the sky.

 

"Well the trail of flame is there."

 

"Which way it go?" Natasha asked and Buffy pointed.

 

"That way."

 

"South East. She crafty that one."

 

"I've read about her. Very sneaky."

 

"What do you do?"

 

"Follow the trail I guess. Getting on her bad side this close to her is not of the smart."

 

"Very true. We get sleep, talk about it in morning?"

 

"Sounds good."

 

With that the odd pair made their way back through the woods to Natasha's cabin.

 

 

**a/n**

'Hut, khizhiny, povorachivatsya spinoi klesu, perednyuyu mne!' -- Hut, turn your back to the woods, your front to me! (Apologies if my translation to Russian or my transliteration to the roman character set sucks.)

 

 

**Expedition Begins**

 

The next morning the pair woke at dawn. Natasha pulled out two packs; her old military backpack and her trapper's pack. She began filling them with dried food and other supplies. Buffy finished off trimming down one of Natasha's sweaters to size. In an hour or so they were done. 

Natasha had her hunting rifle taken apart into its two sections and its scope and packed it neatly next to her collapsed hook, and her old armor, in the protocol enhanced-storage military pack. She quickly cut apart and restitched some old canvas to make a cover for it and mask the pack's true appearance. At first, she felt mildly silly about packing her armor. But just thinking for a second on the ancient one who had started this trip, caused her to shiver and wish she had more protection.

Soon she was lacing Buffy's feet onto her spare pair of skis. Apparently the young woman had been an excellent ice skater and had a preternatural sense of balance. Whatever the cause, she had soon mastered the sliding lope of a good cross country skier.

The pair set off. Buffy first looking up at the sky to gain the bearing and Natasha matching it to her compass. Then the pair shouldered their packs and headed off, away from the cabin. They skied through a silent white landscape. Buffy seemed almost tireless and when Natasha called a halt that night, her only complaint was that her feet hurt.

In the snow cave that Natasha made, she took a look at her companion's feet and saw that the socks were soaked with blood. A tell-tale sign that fresh blisters had formed, ruptured, and torn Buffy's newly healed skin. However except for the dried blood and fragments of skin in the socks, the soles of the young woman's feet appeared unharmed.

 

Buffy herself looked at her feet and laughed, "Guess slayer healing is still up to the job. I knew it worked on ingrown toenails and acne." She didn't seem a bit worried and was soon using snow to grind out the caked blood and sweat from the wool.

 

The next morning they set out again. Buffy checking the fiery path and Natasha still matching it with her compass. They went about the same distance, and that night when Natasha checked Buffy's feet she saw no damage or bloodied socks. After that she pulled out an old Fleet survey map and showed Buffy their location.

"We here," Natasha pointed, "We start here," she pointed again.

 

"Two days and we've only gone eighty miles?" Buffy was surprised, "It felt like we were going forever."

 

"We make excellent time. Especially through fresh snow. We cross road here. Maybe get ride on truck or train. Arrive at crossing midday tomorrow."

 

"A ride? That sounds nice. I mean this skiing is cool and all, but it really is kind of slow."

 

"Impatient pchelka...go sleep."

 

"Yes Tasha."

 

The next day the pair set off and at about noon did approach a rail and road crossing with a pair of old concrete buildings next to them. Many large and mud-spattered trucks on huge tires pulling wide covered trailers were parked nearby. On the front of one of the buildings a battered neon sign flickered advertising cheap beer and hot food.

The pair slipped off their skis and leaning them against a side wall of of sight of the parking area went towards the door. The inside was loud, warm, and smelled of sweat, stale beer, and burned food. Some kind of rock and roll song was playing on the arthritic jukebox in the corner, and a loud group were playing pool on a threadbare table.

When the two women dressed in furs entered conversation stopped. Natasha stepped up to the bar, slapped down a coin and said in a loud clear voice, "Chetyri piva!"

 

In the continued silence the bartender brought her her four beers and after passing two to Buffy, Natasha drained her first in one swallow. Buffy saw this, gulped slightly and drained her first one as well. Not in one swallow of course, but hopefully quickly enough. Then Natasha went to an open table and sat down before removing her hat and snow goggles. 

The bar's background noise slowly began to increase again, but now it was filled with questions on who the unusual looking pair were. Natasha was tall and muscular with high cheekbones and long black hair. Buffy was almost a foot shorter than her companion, and was thin with an almost delicate face that was scarred on one side and had short light brown stubble on her head where her hair was growing back. Then there was the patch over her eye as well.

A waitress finally made her way over.

"What can I get you?"

 

"Roast chicken and vegetables," Natasha answered. As the waitress was about to ask Buffy, Natasha waved her to a stop.

 

"My niece, she can not speak. It is because of the accident," she gestured at Buffy's scarring. "Chicken and vegetables as well for her."

 

"I am so sorry my dear, I'll have your food here shortly," the waitress told Buffy as she rushed away with the order.

 

"I tell her you mute," Natasha whispered. "The language of Lions and WTA not seen out here."

 

Buffy scowled a little then nodded in acceptance. Natasha thought to herself that Baba Yaga had mentioned that others would not be happy with Buffy's presence here. It was a wise idea to err towards prudence. Stopping at this bar had been a risk, but Buffy was right. To cover the potentially vast distances of the Lands of the Red Star, one needed far faster transportation than skis or feet.

The feel arrived and was, quite surprisingly, tasty and filling. The afternoon had dragged on and now Natasha was scanning the faces in the clientèle for someone with the right level of greed and honesty.

It took an hour more or so, but finally she was relatively sure that this one individual met both those requirements.

"Wait here Pchelka. I get us ride," Buffy nodded and leaned back in her chair, eyes closed.

 

Natasha walked over to the gentleman in question. He was in his fifties or sixties, for those in this line of work it was difficult to tell, with eyes permanently squinting against the sun and patchy gray hair. He wore battered but clean coveralls and was sitting by himself nursing a beer.

"May I join you Tovarisch?" she asked as she sat down across from him.

 

He looked at her curiously and nodded, "Da, you may."

 

"My niece and I have need of transportation south. Are you perhaps headed in that direction?"

 

"Yes, yes I am. Is that your niece, the short one over there?"

 

"Da, by marriage not by blood."

 

"Ahh. Khorosho, that makes sense...How far south do you need to travel?"

 

"I am not sure..."

 

"Ilya. Ilya Markov.

 

"I am Natasha and my niece is Pchelka.

 

"A pleasure Natasha."

 

"Likewise Ilya. As I was saying, I am not sure exactly how far south we would be traveling but it would be to the east as well. Any distance you could take us would be helpful. We can pay you of course," Natasha saw one of Ilya's eyebrows raise slightly and she grinned to herself.

 

"Of course. Well I was going to be leaving after I had finished my lunch. I am done except for the remains of this awful beer. I will meet you outside in say ten minutes? I must pay my bill here you see."

 

"Allow me Ilya," Natasha waved over the waitress, "Add this gentleman's bill to mine and give me the total now please."

 

"Of course ma'am," in a moment she was back with the check.

 

Natasha slipped her one of Baba Yaga's gold coins and whispered, "The excess is so you do not remember me or who I spoke to. Understood?"

 

The waitress nodded slightly and walked off.

 

"Well that's taken care of," Ilya said, "Gather up your niece and I'll meet you outside."

 

Soon the three were standing outside a ugly green and brown hauler that had seen much better days. The engine was still running and the chug of a well tuned motor was clearly heard.

"Well climb aboard," the gruff driver exhorted and Buffy and Natasha scrambled up the short metal ladder to the cab. Inside was spartan, clean, and the heater worked. Behind the wide bench seat was a small bunk space with room for both their packs. 

 

The first thing Ilya did as he slid behind the large steering wheel was plug in a small electric kettle in the dash and begin making tea. As soon as the first cup was ready, he shifted the hauler into gear and they were soon bouncing their way out of the parking area and onto the dirt and gravel road south.

 

 

**Travel**

The road was normally very rough but the semi-regular use by lumber trucks and other haulers had packed the snow into a hard smooth surface. When the weather changed and the snow melted it would become a clinging soup of mud, but for now it was actually quite good.

Ilya was obviously an experienced driver Natasha noticed. He never braked unnecessarily, preferring to use the engine to slow the massive vehicle. This meant he had more control on the slick surface. He kept his speed up too. Obviously wanting to get to the next fragment of civilization before it got too dark.

He didn't speak on the drive, not even empty pleasantries. He only hummed a monotonous little tune and drank tea. Buffy settled back on the seat and went to sleep while Natasha stared out into the wilderness outside her window.

She had been born in Temnyvod, the capital of the Lands of the Red Star. Her father was a schoolteacher, her mother a clerk at the Kvartzey, the central building of government. As a young girl she had exhibited a great gift for ballet and so had been taken by the state system and trained and honed as a tool of art and propaganda. This had been her life from the age of six till she was thirteen and then she began to grow tall. No more a delicate ballerina able to travel the world. She worked briefly in a factory assembling tractors, then a farm where she learned to sew and knit. Then when she was old enough she enlisted in the Fleet. Natasha was not sure why she made this decision, only that it seemed the right thing to do. She was tested for talent and found lacking in that special bit to be a sorceress, but as the testers told her, "You have the force of will to make a superb Trooper for the State. You should be proud!"

She went through training and soon found her size, coupled with the discipline she had learned as a dancer made that tester's statement very true indeed. She became an excellent trooper and fought in several nasty altercations in Suden the wild continent, far to the south of the State. Promotions followed her success and in a surprisingly short amount of time she was promoted up to Sergeant and then Starshyna.

Then came Al Istaan and Kar Dathra's Gate. As she had told Buffy she had been one of the thousands of Troopers landed to hold the Nistaani positions once the Sky-Furnaces had burned their defenders free. She saw the waves of Transformation Protocols launched against the bunkers and heard the abruptly cut off screams as the essences of hundreds of transformed warkasters lanced down, destroyed what they touched, and then returned to the comparative safety of their isolator chambers back aboard the Furnaces.

Then the word was passed that the massive Sky-Furnaces hovering above were going to deploy their main weapon. The ventral blast furnace coils. The ships took their positions over head while Natasha and the troops on the ground took what cover they could and avoid looking at the torrent of raw heat that poured down from above and splashed across the land.

Where the deluge of energy had touched all was destroyed. Burned and blasted with the almost unimaginable forces contained by the looming vessels. Some of her troops cheered the destruction. Others, like her who had seen this before, were silent, and some even wept at the brutal annihilation. Then the orrder was given to advance and warkasters began using the Jumpgate Transfer Protocol to get the Troopers closer to the area needed to be held.

As she led her platoon through the cyan gate she smelled the stink of roasted meat and terror. From above she heard the whistling of krawl drop containers coming in. Each carrying a sorceress with the proper protocols to assure a safe landing of the massive armored vehicle contained inside. Moving behind the walls of metal that were krawls. Natasha advanced, her platoon following, across the still hot ground. Then he appeared and kast his ritual protocol.

Nistaani warriors began to flicker and reappear like shadows striking everywhere at once. First one then another then another of the mighty Sky-Furnaces began to plummet from the air. Subject to forces so ancient that there was no protocol developed by the Academy as a counter.

When the death and screams had stopped, Natasha had found herself in a field of corpses wearing the proud uniforms of the Red Fleet. Krawls lay as smoking metal husks and the bones of the Furnaces smoldered and popped. Jumpgates were being opened and the surviving troops were being called back to them. They were loaded aboard the few remaining Sky-Furnaces and the URRS officially fled the field of battle.

When all was tallied only one in fifty of every Fleet member that had been at the battle had survived. Natasha still wondered why she had been so fortunate.

 

When the surviving Fleet had limped back to safety inside State controlled territories, she had been assigned to a new platoon of recruits and was recommended for officer training. That was the final straw. A year after she had returned from the greatest loss the State had ever suffered, and three days before she was due to report to the Academy, she packed up her gear and headed east into the wastes. She could not contemplate being rewarded for living when so many others had died.

And so she had lived as a hermit these last fifteen years in a wild land where nobody cared who she was or what she was doing. Now she was on a mission for a being she could not even comprehend with a young woman that seemed just as driven to protect the world, as she once had been. 

Natasha looked over at the sleeping form of Buffy only to see that she was being scrutinized by that piercing green eye. Buffy put her arm around the older woman's shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze and Natasha finally let herself sleep.

When she finally awoke the hauler was pulling into a larger community.

"Where are we Ilya?" she yawned. 

 

"Chernyi Kamen, a real shit-hole. Mining town but there is enough Fleet presence here that my hauler won't be stolen easily. You slept pretty good and your niece she never said a word."

 

"She's mute."

 

"Ah, that would explain it. Well, there is a hotel here. It's not very pretty, but its fairly safe and clean. I'll be continuing south tomorrow but for now I need sleep."

 

"Of course. What time will you be leaving tomorrow?" Natasha asked.

 

"About dawn. There's a river I need to be able to get to before sunset. Crossing it in the dark is not safe."

 

"We'll be ready."

 

Ilya grunted and the three exited the hauler. Some more of Baba Yaga's gold provided the two women with a room and attached shower and Buffy was ecstatic with the thought of actually being clean with hot water and not sitting in a tub. Natasha couldn't help but smile at her young aquaintance's exuberant attitude and to herself admitted that having a hot shower after fifteen years would feel nice.

After bathing and rinsing out their dirtier clothes, Buffy remarked that maybe they should get some clothes that would blend in more? As the pair were wearing mainly furs and homemade well patched gear, Natasha thought that made a great deal of sense.

As to be expected in a remote mining town and transportation hub, there was a thriving street market in dubious goods. Buffy found some red leather pants and a tough three quarter length black jacket some t-shirts and sweaters along with as she put it "Underwear that fits!". Natasha was amazed to find some durable blue twill pants that actually fit very well, along with a heavy canvas coat that Buffy pronounced "very gunslinger" whatever that meant. Natasha liked the coat because it was long enough to hide her collapsed hook underneath.

A few booths along Buffy spotted a seller hawking blades of all sorts. It was obvious that the young woman was an expert as she examined an assortment of daggers and long blades finally settling on a pair of Storm Lands style with a chisel points and a thick nine inch long blades. After paying Buffy then proceeded to make the blades vanish with a simple flick of her wrist. Natasha could not spot where she had hidden them.

 

"I've had a lot of practice with concealed weapons Tasha," was the response to the older woman's curious look. "At least they're good quality steel. Most of the weapons at that booth I could have snapped without trying."

 

The pair headed back to the hotel with their purchases when the hairs on Natasha's neck started rising.

"Zasada," she whispered.

 

"What?" was her companion's response.

 

"Amboosh!" Natasha reached out with her telekinesis and grabbed the short club from an assailant hiding in the shadows while Buffy reacted by charging the figure that had just stepped out to block their path.

 

Hurling the weapon she had just obtained at its former owner's head Natasha turned and grabbing another thug by the collar flung him to the ground with a Bersk shoulder toss before kicking him in the head. Looking around for other targets she saw Buffy had already dealt with the blocker and was almost casually blocking a knife fighter's slashes and lunges before knocking him unconscious with an uppercut.

The two women stood and looked at each other for a moment and then both started laughing.

 

"Amateurs," was Buffy's departing comment as they returned to their room, the stunned and bruised bodies of six low-lifes laying in heaps behind them.

 

 

**The Crossing**

 

The next morning, after a breakfast of tea and kasha, the two women headed out to Ilya's hauler. He was working under the raised hood when they arrived and waved one hand at their greeting.

"Is there a problem?" Natasha asked.

 

"Bad fuel. Fucking water froze in the filter when I shut it down last night. Now I can't get it thawed."

 

"Wouldn't it be simpler just to pull the filter and thaw it away from the engine?" Natasha remarked seeing the old alcohol blowlamp in Ilya's hand.

 

"Da...If I could get the cocksucker removed. The baboon fingered mechanic that worked on this last stripped the bolt head. It's as smooth as a priest's ass."

 

"Let me try," Natasha offered reaching out for the adjustable wrench.

 

"Okay, your funeral," Ilya handed the tall woman the requested tool. Soon Natasha's arms were deep in the guts of the hauler. She ignored using the wrench, and instead gripped the smoothed off bolt head with her fingers before clamping down with her telekinesis. With its assistance, she was easily able to twist the stubborn fastener free. Tapping the unnecessary wrench against the engine block for verisimilitude, she waited a few minutes and then presented the bolt and the filter to Ilya.

 

"Amazing!" a smile broke over Ilya's gruff face.

 

"Not really. All your hard work had obviously loosened it, I merely finished the job. You might wish to replace that bolt with a spare."

 

"Good idea Tovarisch," Ilya headed to his toolbox and missed the look of curiosity on Buffy's face. Natasha did not however, and gave a 'what was I supposed to do?' shrug in return. Buffy smiled at the older woman's discomfort then made her face studiously bland when Ilya returned.

 

"Now I cook the bastard!" he fired up the blowlamp and melted the icy plug free before wiping it down with a greasy cloth. Taking the wrench back from Natasha he bent his head over the engine and after a short period of mild cursing and banging pronounced the repair complete.

 

"Excellent!" Natasha replied, "I see you are a fine mechanic."

 

"You have to be out here. Not many shops open for repairs once you get free from the towns. At least tank heater is working fine. We drive a few miles then I can drain the water."

 

"Alright. Pchelka we should get in the truck," Natasha gestured towards the door. Buffy nodded and started climbing the ladder carrying her pack. Natasha followed and a minute later Ilya climbed into the cab and began cranking the engine. It started with a roar bringing another smile to Ilya's face.

 

"You are a fine mechanic Tovarisch Natasha. Maybe I should hire you to help maintain my hauler?"

 

"You couldn't afford me."

 

"Probably not, but a man can dream can't he?"

 

"That has not been forbidden as far as I know. I have been in the woods for a while though."

 

"Not forbidden yet..."

 

The day passed uneventfully and Ilya did not stop for lunch. When they arrived at the river he had mentioned the two women saw why. It was at least three miles wide at the fording point and the tops of a few haulers could be see sticking above where they had fallen through and the waters had refrozen around them.

There was a narrow path marked with flags every tenth of a mile or so and one by one a hauler would cross, the massive weight causing the ice to creak and groan. The shadows were starting to draw close and the light was going. Haulers were beginning to pull out of the line waiting to cross as visibility started to drop.

Soon Ilya was at the head of the line.

 

"Can't we wait till tomorrow?" Natasha wondered.

 

"No. They must survey new path each morning. Then all those in line from night before that pulled away go in order. We will not cross till tomorrow night. I must cross tonight."

 

"Alright."

 

Slowly Ilya brought the weight of his vehicle onto the glassy surface then gradually started to speed up, "The weight pushes the ice up in a wave in front. If the wave gets too high, the ice cracks. You have to have your speed just right."

 

"I see," Natasha felt slightly nervous about the upcoming crossing.

 

"We could take the bridge, but that is two days drive out of the way each way. And time is scrip as they say. Don't worry, I have done this many times and only sunk once!" He gave a barking laugh, "I am kidding. Relax."

 

It took about twenty minutes to get across during which Natasha could feel the ice shifting and groaning underneath the hauler's huge tires. Eventually the vehicle finished its journey and Ilya jockeyed it up onto solid ground.

"See, safe and dry Tovarisch."

 

"Impressive," was Natasha could say in response.

 

"This is the end of my run south. Now I must turn east. You are welcome to ride with me..."

 

"No Ilya, I am afraid we must part company. Thank you for your hospitality."

 

"Thank you for helping with my truck!"

 

Soon the two women were standing at the side of the road in the small town of Zimoy Peresecheniya as Ilya pulled off. Buffy flipped her patch back and looked up at the sky.

"Yeah, we still need to do the south thing. East wouldn't have cut it."

 

"Let us find place to stay," Natasha said, "We take train south tomorrow."

 

Buffy agreed and soon they found a small hotel that catered to travelers.

"How much of Baab Yaga's gold do you have left?" Buffy asked when they were safely in their room.

 

"I do not know..." Natasha tipped the bag over the bed and not a single coin dropped out. Reaching cautiously inside she pulled first one then another and then quickly replaced them.

 

"Maybe only as much as we need?" she said after a moment.

 

"That makes sense. You know I don't trust her right?"

 

"Da, that sensible. Even when she help, she thinks of self first. That true in all stories." Natasha looked over to where Buffy was toying with the small metal cylinder the ancient witch had given her.

 

"What that Pchelka?"

 

"I don't know. Given what she said I'd expect it to be a weapon or weapons maybe, but so it's nothing."

 

"Look at it with good eye maybe?"

 

"Yeah! That's a great idea." Buffy took off her patch and carefully examined the cylinder again, "And there's the catch right there..."she muttered and suddenly a sword appeared in her hand.

 

"Cool." It was an old style cavalry saber.

 

"It looks like Svobodnyi blade," Natasha mused. "They horsemen of steppe. Very warlike, excellent soldati. I have seen blades like this in museum."

 

"The balance is great and it glows a little red to this eye," Buffy took a few practice swings and then loosened her grip causing the sword to almost instantly return to its cylinder form.

 

"As long as I hang on to it with good form it stays a sword. I can deal."

 

"We catch train tomorrow. Pravda only knows herself about future."

 

"Good night Tasha."

 

 

**The Lake**

 

In the morning the pair made their way down to the train station. 

"Path you see goes almost perfectly south," Natasha had explained to Buffy before they had left the room, "Here Zimoy Peresecheniya," she pointed at the small town on the map,"Train line here,"she traced the line down to a gigantic splash of blue.

 

"What's that big blue blob?"

 

"Biggest lake in State, Lake Tsveryc. It almost four hundred miles long."

 

"Wow!"

 

"Yes, wow. From there we take boat to Bystrekuz at south. Then train again if path not end."

 

"What's this big area south here?" Buffy pointed at a large flat area.

 

"Different country. That Khүiteeria. Home of Khүit·e·eer vsadnikovi, Bleak Horsemen. Their ancestors raiders. Many years ago they conquer almost whole world."

 

"Mongols and Mongolia..." Buffy muttered.

 

"What?"

 

"More similarities."

 

"More similar good, right?"

 

"Yes...unless it isn't. I'm not the world's greatest research girl, I can do the book stuff and have in the past. Right now though I am so out of my comfort zone."

 

"What you say?"

 

"Sorry Tasha. What I said was I don't understand the why and how of how I got here. There are others, friends of mine, that know that kind of stuff. I'm usually just good at beating things up."

 

"I understand. I have been blunt instrument of policy too."

 

"I never thought of it that way...But yeah, I had just started setting policy at the end. Just before I got here."

 

"You act like officer, Pchelka. Come up with plan and do."

 

"Well they were calling me General Buffy at the end."

 

"Cannot set plan without informatsiya. We keep going until we get more?"

 

"Yeah, that sounds good. Then maybe I can figure out whether the similarities are good or not."

 

With that the pair exited the room.

 

The station was easy to find. This town was a junction between the Trans-Vostochny Styepy Railway and the Tsveryc Tchorny Mainline, so the switchyards were well lit and noisy. The platform was close by and with a minimum of fuss Natasha was able to get two tickets in a private room.

"Tasha," Buffy asked, "Are people used to taking gold so easily out here?"

 

Natasha thought to herself and shook her head, "No and I was not asked for travel documents. Very strange."

 

"That gold is very dangerous I'm sure. Gifts like that always are."

 

"That way it told in stories. But in stories gold stolen from witch. Not given freely without request."

 

"Yeah, our stories are like that too. It still makes me nervous though."

 

"Good. That way we stay cautious."

 

Once they had boarded the train they settled in for the four hour trip to the north of the lake.

The terrain grew rougher and soon they were traveling through mountains. Buffy looked up at them and sighed.

"I wonder if my Russia looks like this?"

 

"Tell me about your world. Or you, if you prefer?"

 

"Me? I'm twenty three and was born in Los Angeles California in the United States of America. I lived there until I was fifteen. My father was a businessman and my mother stayed at home mostly. Then when I turned fifteen something weird happened. All of a sudden I was faster, stronger, tougher. I knew how to fight and use almost any weapon. I also began being able to sense the nasty things that live in the shadows. A man named Merrick came and taught me how to use my abilities and then he was killed by one of those shadow-dwelling nasties. Then I kind of burned down my high school school gym and was put in a mental hospital for a while. After that my parents got divorced and I moved with my mom to Sunnydale California where I've lived for the past eight years and gone to school and fought evil."

 

"I suspect that there are parts missing..."

 

"You suspect right. I haven't asked about you, I mean not really."

 

"I know and I thank you. for that. How about your Roosiya?"

 

"My Russia? It's big. Probably the same size as your State and really empty. Until about ten or so years ago there was like a war without weapons being fought between the USA and the Soviet Union...uh Russia. This war had been going on since long before I was born."

 

"There something like that here between URRS and WTA."

 

"Yeah I kinda figured that out. Anyway my Russia is still powerful, even with the war-ish thing gone. I've never been there, but now after seeing how beautiful your country is, I think I want to."

 

"This part wild country. Few rules. I not welcome in most part."

 

"Why not? When was the last time you saw your parents?"

 

"Sixteen years ago? And why not? I break serious rule. Leave Fleet service without permission. If caught, I imprisoned or executed."

 

"You deserted?"

 

"Da...I could not allow myself to accept reward for watching children die."

 

"Oh Tasha," Buffy hugged the sobbing older woman until they reached their station.

 

By that time Natasha had pulled herself together enough to get the pair of them on the ferry heading south. The trip would take a day and a half so so Natasha asked Buffy for multiple bearings on the path in the sky. Soon she had enough information to plot on her map where they would all converge.

 

"Here!" she pointed proudly. Just before the ferry pulled in at Bystrekuz

 

"Where's here?"Buffy asked

 

"Tochoi-Temtsegech, capitol of Khүiteeria. It one of Republics, but border crossing possibly tricky. Dependent on guards watchfulness. We take train south, leave before it get to border. Then cross on foot, catch other train on other side."

 

"Okay, but I've never broken into a country before though. What should I wear?"

 

 

**Hungry Shadows**

 

Bystrekuz was a large city and a major transportation hub for the Eastern Wastes. With a population of at least half a million and one of the main Sky Furnace foundries it was also a site of heavy Red Fleet presence.

Natasha noticed Military Police patrols constantly roaming the streets, providing security for the Fleet's manufacturing. The fortunate situation was, there were all sorts of people passing through the city at any given time. That meant that it was very easy for two women to blend in and remain unnoticed.

After they had arrived, the first thing the pair had done was to locate the train station. That was easily done as the switch yards, handling all sorts of traffic from all four cardinal directions, were immense.

The next goal was to get tickets for a night train heading south. Baba Yaga's gold was accepted without question as was its power, and by sunset the two were climbing aboard a train with a destination of Tochoi-Temtsegech.

The distance to the border was over two hundred miles, so the pair sat on the benches and tried to sleep. They had been traveling for over an hour and darkness had come when Natasha was awakened by an insistent nudging.

"Shto?" she muttered sleepily.

 

"Company," was the whisper. "And they're not human."

 

Natasha carefully opened one eye and surveyed the rail car. In the night-time dimmed lights it was not easy to make out details, but her trained senses soon picked out some shapes moving along the ceiling.

"What they?" was ex-soldier's next question.

 

"No clue. But they feel evil with a capital ick."

 

As the pair watched, feigning sleep, they saw inky tendrils drip down and latch on to their fellow travelers. The shapes on the ceiling then stayed motionless above their prey and fed.

"That's vampiric enough for me," Buffy whispered, "I have to stop this."

 

"Can you?"

 

"Time to find out..." Buffy slipped from her seat stood up and cleared her throat, "Do you speak Eng...I mean Lion? If not, my kicking your butt is going to be sooo tedious."

 

"You see ussss?" came out in accented but clear Lion while, the lead shape's tendrils dissipated as it turned to face the short woman.

 

"Well duh! If I didn't how could I be talking to you? God, some demonic creatures are just so slow on the uptake and complete missers of the obvious. And they call me a ditz."

 

"What was that?" the shape seemed puzzled by Buffy's prattle.

 

"Just that now would be a good time to...I don't know...kill yourselves? I'm still kind of sleepy and I really don't want to waste the energy."

 

"That's right. Do not waste your energy. Sleep and let us feed on it." the tone of the shape's voice got lower and softer and Natasha felt a wave of calm pass over her.

 

"I don't think that's an option. How about I beat you up, destroy you, and then go back to sleep. Now that's a plan!"

 

Natasha found herself standing as well, "I like that plan."

 

"Tasha, you didn't have to get up..."

 

"These upiri need removed. Otherwise you will just keep talking and not let me sleep."

 

"Upiri huh? Okay, guess I'll start the fun time," Buffy dipped her hand in her pocket and produced the sword Baba Yaga had given her while Natasha pulled her hook out from under her coat.

 

One of the shapes launched itself from the ceiling revealing a humanoid figure with a smooth, almost oily, dark gray leathery skin covered with tubes and enlarged blood vessels, three sucker tipped fingers on each hand, and a head even more nightmarish with its large blank black eyes and mouth much like that of a lamprey with small wriggling tentacles surrounding the rings of concentric teeth.

"Oh gross!" was Buffy's first reaction on seeing this horrific apparition. Her second was to attempt to run it through. The sword passed cleanly through its body without causing it any apparent harm.

 

"Great, they're intangible. Any legends on these guys come to mind?"

 

"They hate bright light and prefer virgins?"

 

"You know that's just creepy right?" Buffy told the one she was engaged with. "The virgin thing I mean. I don't know how you would find bright light wiggins inducing." She parried a lunge by the suckered hand with a clang. "So you can be solid huh?"

 

Natasha had cast her hook out and had impaled one to the ceiling where it had been lurking. The impact caused it to vanish in a puff of foul smelling smoke. Calling her weapon back she was soon engaged in a melee with two others.

Buffy had lopped her first target's hand off when it had solidified again to attack her and was now doing an elaborate figure-8 pattern with the blade tip to keep it intangible. Meanwhile, Natasha had found that her hook was quite capable of cutting them even in their ghostlike state, and soon made short work of the pair attacking her.

When they were taken care of she headed over to help Buffy only to find a rapidly shrinking cloud of smoke in front of the younger woman. "I let him think I was open," was Buffy's only comment.

 

"My hook could hurt them. Your blade could not. Why?"

 

"Not sure. I don't know all the rules around here, but I am an outsider so I don't have any belief in the local forces at work. Belief," Buffy pointed at the red sword of Pravda that Natasha wore around her neck, "has power."

 

"Can you tell me more of these rules."

 

"I'm not much on rules except for the first one; No matter what, don't die. Actually I've even broken that one...Aside from that, I usually just ignore them." 

 

Natasha looked around, "Our fellow passengers are rousing, we should perhaps?" she slipped her hook back under her coat while Buffy nodded and put the now cylinder away and regained her seat.

 

"I'm still getting this creepy feeling Tasha," she muttered.

 

"Da, now I feel it too," the pair looked around but saw no more threats. Still they did not dare go back to sleep.

 

 

**Call Him Al**

 

Hopping off the train just before the border crossing was simplicity itself. Natasha believed they had about an hour for the train to arrive, be inspected, and then exit the city to where they could catch it again. 

Buffy simply nodded on hearing this and began a quick steady jog that easily kept pace with Natasha's longer strides. Fortunately there were no walls or fences to bypass, just patrols to dodge and lights to avoid. Though it wasn't illegal to be out and about this early in the morning; it was unusual. And, as neither woman wanted to chat with the local police or Fleet Intelligence units that were stationed here, they took great care in not being spotted.

With the looping path they had taken avoiding other passersby it was almost fortyfive minutes later when they finally saw the train. Getting tickets was simple in comparison and soon they were aboard with at least three minutes to spare. Natasha was exhausted but Buffy still looked full of energy.

"I not used to such runs,"the older woman moaned as she leaned back against the seat.

 

"You did great! I can't think of a lot of other people that could have possibly kept up that speed."

 

"Normal people?"

 

"Well yeah. Vampires could and probably werewolves. Some demons. It's like the ones that have lots of endurance aren't very fast. Which is a good thing."

 

"You know interesting types Pchelka."

 

"Well yeah. Thing is I end up having to slay a lot of them. Not the ones that keep their hands or paws or tentacles or whatever off humans though. Those I leave alone. They don't hurt people, I don't hurt them."

 

"And ones that do hurt people?"

 

"I destroy them..." Buffy leaned back as well, "How long?"

 

"Another two hundred miles so...four or five hours until Tochoi-Temtsegech."

 

"How can you pronounce names like that without coughing? I'd end up in a choking fit."

 

"It not hard. Reminds me, you should continue work learning my language."

 

To Natasha's surprise Buffy nodded, "Yeah, I've been slacking off...that means being lazy. I can read a few mid-eastern languages and I speak really decent French...uh...Gallia if I remember that map correctly."

 

"You can read my script?"

 

"A little. I know what the letter forms look like and I know 'otkrovenie' means revelatory apocalypse. Like I said, the similarities between our worlds are pretty strong," She sounded slightly embarrassed when she admitted her knowledge.

 

"So then you have been, how you say in movies...Holding out?"

 

"A little Tasha. I play dumb a lot so people underestimate me."

 

"Well do not play this dumb to me. Poimite?"

 

"What was that pommy word?"

 

"Understand! Understand?"

 

"Da Tasha. Ya poimite."

 

"No. It Ya ponimayu when you say it. You silly bee."

 

And so the pair conjugated verbs through the night.

When the sun came up both were sound asleep. They were coming down a valley between to decently sized hills and about to enter a vast plain.

"So this is Mongolia..." Buffy muttered when she awoke. "It looks as empty as I imagined it."

 

"Mongolia?'

 

"My world's name for this country."

 

"It part of your Roosiya?"

 

"I think it was...I don't know for sure."

 

"I never have been here before. This all new to me."

 

"Well, we'll explore it together then!" At least Buffy seemed positive, Natasha thought.

 

The train pulled into the station a few hours later in downtown Tochoi-Temtsegech. It was a cold dry city almost a mile above sea level and this late into December brought the winds in full force.

"Brrrrrrrr," squeaked Buffy, "Tasha, I thought it was cold by your cabin."

 

"No water around to hold heat here. Wind not blocked by trees and much thinner air. Of course it colder Pchelka."

 

"Let me get my bearings," the shorter woman shivered as she flipped back her patch quickly. "The path goes into the ground over there."

 

Natasha looked over in the direction indicated. The buildings were seedier and more decrepit, "You sure?"

 

"Yup!" Buffy popped the 'P'. "Over there it heads from the sky to the ground."

 

"Alright," the ex-soldier took the lead as the pair slung their packs and headed into a maze of side streets.

 

The wind was lessened back in here by the mish-mash of construction but all the streets were shadowed so the limited warmth of the sun wasn't present. "All in all," Natasha considered, "It balanced out." There were others on the street, but considering the temperature it was not to surprising that they were moving as quickly as possible from one place to another. Buffy occasionally flipped aside her patch to make sure they were heading in the correct direction and soon they found themselves deep within the maze and in front of a grimy door.

"Inside?" Natasha asked.

 

"Inside," Buffy agreed and opened the door.

 

The room was dark and smoky and reeked of cheap tobacco. It was full even though it was the middle of the afternoon. And when the two women entered, all conversation stopped.

 

"I almost expect to see a piano player miss a note," whispered Buffy.

 

"Which person?" Natasha whispered back.

 

Buffy reached up as if to scratch the side of her face and quickly flipped up her patch, "Table in the back left corner."

 

"Right. May be trouble. You ready?"

 

Buffy gave the other woman an 'Are you serious expression?', then followed her through the bar. 

 

They had gotten half way to their destination when Natasha saw the foot slip out to trip her. Sighing, she stomped on the ankle with her heavy boot producing a scream of pain. The others at the table started to get to their feet but stopped when they saw Buffy suddenly appear on the center of the table with a knife in each hand and making tcch tcch tcch noises while shaking her head from side to side. The affronted and friends sat back down, and Buffy did a neat back flip off and when she landed the knives had disappeared.

There were no more problems as they crossed the crowded bar, and by the time they had gotten to the corner, conversation had restarted.

At the table were two men. A short dusky skinned one who was about the same height as Buffy, and a lanky tanned man with thinning blond hair, an amazing walrus mustache, and had a camouflage cap of indeterminate origin pulled over his eyes; who was quite obviously asleep. Both were dressed in odd assortment of military uniform pieces from half a dozen countries and had several empty pitchers in front of them.

"Yes?" the dusky skinned man asked in quite good but accented Lion.

 

"Now what?" Natasha asked Buffy.

 

"How should I know? I'm just the GPS system."

 

The sleeping man stirred and then spoke clearly, "Offer them a chair and pour 'em a drink Ganesh old bean. Where's yer bloody manners?"

 

"I am very sorry Captain," the dusky man made an obscene gesture at his formerly sleeping friend. As his hat was still covering his eyes he didn't notice. "Please ladies. Sit and join us."

 

As Ganesh poured two glasses of beer, his friend sat up and looked over the two women with a pair of amazingly blue eyes. Natasha and Buffy had pulled up a pair of chairs and seated themselves.

"So ladies," the man addressed as 'Captain' spoke "I'm Captain Sir Albert Feathering Brooks-Wilde, 5th His Majesty's Hussars retired."

 

"Most people just call him Al," Ganesh stage whispered.

 

"And this is my batsman Sergeant Ganesh Rawat," Al kept going as if he hadn't noticed Ganesh's aside. "Who might you lovely ladies be?"

 

"I Natasha Plekhanova and this..."

 

"...is Buffy Summers. Pleasure to meet you Captain Al!"

 

"Red Star and WTA by sounds of it. Well that is an interesting combination that certainly has my full attention..."

 

"...Such as it is..." came the chorus from Ganesh.

 

"...attention," Al repeated, "What can I do for you two?"

 

"Actually," Buffy said, "we were sent here to help you with a problem. So what's the problem?"

 

 

**Introduction**

 

Al's eyebrows raised at Buffy's question. He took off his hat and scratched the back of his head, "Sergeant Rawat?"

 

"Sir yes sir!"

 

"Do you recall me calling out for some bloody help?"

 

"Not off the top of my head, Sir."

 

"So Miss...Summers was it? What does the Bureau of Central Intelligence," he then looked at Natasha," and the Komissariat want with me and my associate?"

 

"Kommisariat...I?" Natasha started to laugh. That was obviously not the reaction either of the two men were expecting.

 

"Uh Tasha, what did he just call us?"

 

"He thinks we spies Pchelka," Natasha managed to calm her laughter down.

 

"In these clothes? Can I just say, I don't think so Al."

 

"She doesn't talk like the last agent you punched Al," Ganesh remarked philosophically.

 

"Well he was a bloody horse's arse."

 

"I am not disagreeing with you my Captain. Simply making a statement of fact."

 

"You're a Gurkha!" Buffy suddenly blurted out.

 

"Pardon?" Ganesh responded, "I am a Ghuri. My use of a name notwithstanding."

 

"That's what I meant, I mean. Use of a name?"

 

"Most of the chaps like him stay with their Alphanumeric service identifier, even after mustering out..."

 

"Bravo-Zed-One-One-Four has no music to it..." Ganesh muttered.

 

"...this lout liked his name better."

 

"Like I said, no music at all."

 

Natasha looked at Ganesh carefully then grasped one of his hands and pushed his shirt sleeve up exposing his left wrist. On it was an elaborate tattoo of fine black lines.

"Batsman, ha! He Claws of the Lion. Which means..." she looked at Al who quickly put his finger to his lips.

 

"Ah ah ah. No more spouting the bloody facts to every soul around with wide open ears if you please. A gentleman has a reputation to protect don't you know," Al looked considerably more animated as he replied and also a little nervous.

 

"Tasha, what's going on?" it was obvious that Buffy realized she was missing something.

 

"Al not Captain, he Craftsman-Captain. Like one of Red Fleet's Sorcerers. Sorcerer have Hailer as bodyguard, Craftsmen have Claws of Lion."

 

"Al, she sounds more like Fleet than Kommisariat."

 

"Da, I was Fleet. I now retired...much like you I think."

 

"Oh now that is a bloody interesting statement, and very dangerous to tell me if true. Ganesh old bean, I do not think this pair are spies after all. Gospoza Plekhanova, your tone of voice and knowledge of things like the Claws of the Lion and who they are likely to associate with, leads me to believe that you were once fairly high up in the ranks. Probably a Senior Non-Commissioned Officer."

 

"Eta pravda, go on."

 

"So I'm right so far. You then had a falling out with your superiors and decided to take a leave of absence for an indeterminate amount of time. Very risky, especially in areas under that right bastard Imbohl's influence."

 

Natasha answered that with a nod of agreement.

 

"Your friend here is another matter. That looks like an old burn and a very nasty looking one to boot. Moves like a fighter, but is very young and energetic. BCI wouldn't use somebody so bloody distinctive looking come to think of it. Thoughts Ganesh?"

 

"About the same, Al. You were part of a Furnace Shock Troop at one time were you not?" the Ghuri asked Natasha. "I was assigned to a rather more dignified gentleman than this idiot some years back in Suden. We met some of your people who were providing training and support for Internationalist Comrades. It was...educational for both sides. You have the same look in your eyes."

 

"Da, I was. Before I became Platoon Sergeant."

 

"Al, be careful with this one."

 

"A bloody Shock Trooper? Damn right I'll be careful. And what about the Jonk?" he indicated Buffy.

 

"No idea. Not a soldier, not really. She is a fighter though. I saw her stunt with that table leap. Very smooth, no loss of balance. Perhaps a 'retired' assassin?"

 

"Retired due to injury...That makes a strange sort of sense. But what's bothering me is the pair of them together."

 

Buffy spoke up, "Do you believe in fairy tales?"

 

"If they have nubile young princesses in them, the Captain would like to," Ganesh replied.

 

"Thank you Sergeant," Al shot Ganesh a dirty look to which the Ghuri just smiled, "What do mean, believe in fairy tales?"

 

"We were sent here by a maybe evil maybe good witch who told us to follow a line in the sky. When we got to the end of this line which is here. We were supposed to talk to the man at the end; that's you, and help him solve a simple problem. So like I asked before. What's the problem?"

 

The two ex-Lion soldiers sat in silence for a moment, "She's bloody off her rocker you know," Al finally told Natasha.

 

Ganesh looked at Buffy carefully, "I don't think she's lying Al. But if she is, she's one of the best I've ever seen."

 

"Really old bean? She actually believes that's the truth?"

 

"As far as I can tell, yes."

 

"And you Gospoza. Do you agree with this nonsense."

 

"I agree. But it not nonsense. I heard Baba Yaga's words as well."

 

"Baba bloody Yaga? Ganesh?"

 

"Truth again. She's harder to read though. Wound up really tight."

 

"Look Al," Buffy said, "Do you have a problem that needs solving? One that you could use some help with and you've been stuck on for a while? Helping solve that problem is why we're here. Not to argue."

 

"Well what the bloody hell...Yes we do have a slight problem. There is a place we need to get to and it's a little bit tricky at the moment."

 

"What place that?" Natasha asked.

 

"Nokgorka."

 

At that word Natasha recoiled.

 

"What's the problem Tasha?"

 

"Nokgorka. It try and break away from State. There has been war there for last five years."

 

 

**North or South**

 

"A warzone?" Buffy gasped, then she recovered and shrugged. "Well it was all seeming way too easy. So where's this Nokgorka anyway?"

 

"About three thousand miles east. A mere stroll," Ganesh answered.

 

"How you planning to get there? I do not think you two allowed to travel through Red Star."

 

"Not really Gospoza, we were thinking of going south and then west," the Lion Officer responded.

 

"How far south?" Natasha pressed her questioning.

 

"Well if we just go a little south we stay in Khүiteeria and it's pretty bloody empty so I am fairly certain no one will notice us. Then we bear west and we start traveling through all these lovely little vacation spots with an '-an' on the end of their name and either a tinpot dictator or the Red Star's presence in charge. The second option is we go a great deal further south crossing Khүiteeria and the Land of Dragons and the Roof of the World until we arrive in the Land of 10,000 Gods. The traveling through Khүiteeria bit is safe as is most of the trek across Dragon lands. Then we get to the Spirit Kingdom and it gets very sketchy. The Dragon Government is not pleased with foreigners in general and your and my lot in particular visiting that particular People's Protectorate," Al looked at Natasha, "As a good Internationalist I'm sure you understand."

He took another drink of his beer, "After 10,000 Gods, it's another journey past and through countries that want nothing to do with outsiders including Al-Istaan."

 

"Wouldn't it be easier simply to fly there or at least closer to it?" Buffy brought up.

 

"Unfortunately my eminent companion and I seem to have misplaced our entry permits into this wonderland called Khүiteeria," Ganesh said sadly.

 

"Along with your memory of us never getting them, it appears," responded Al dryly. "Suffice to say we entered this country under other means and will have to leave the same way. You ladies have the proper travel papers I presume?"

 

"Uh not as such," Buffy answered, "But to be fair, nobody's asked us for any yet."

 

"Really? Not even at the border? That's bloody peculiar. Well those are the two options."

 

Natasha touched the small cloth bag of Baba Yaga's gold in her pocket and smiled, " I have third..."

 

"Oh really? Now what is that if I may be permitted to ask?"

 

"I have means of purchasing railway tickets without papers," Buffy's eye widened in realization. "All we must do is head north to Bystrekuz and catch train west. Much quicker and safer than long walk south. When we cross Atil River north of Albian Sea it only few hundred miles south to Nokgorka."

 

"The good lady has a point Al," Ganesh added, "And if we travel within the Red Star's borders checkpoint security will not be as...impassible."

 

"Are you bloody well sure Sergeant? If we go that way we won't be able to vistit your family on the way by, you know."

 

"I do know and for that I give a great sigh of relief."

 

The Captain looked at Natasha, "Well you seemed to have convinced this bloody great fool. I guess I'll just have to go along to keep him out of mischief. When do we go?"

 

"When next train head north?"

 

"That soon? Alright, I'll play this game. Better than being stuck here for another winter with a despondent Ghuri."

 

"Who are you calling despondent Al?"

 

"You, old bean. Always whinging about how you miss the mountains and the lowlands and bloody liquid water," Al leaned over to Natasha and whispered, "It's worse than a bloody two year old on a trip to the beach to be honest."

 

"Me?" Ganesh managed to sound offended and triumphant at the same time, "I'm not the one constantly complaining that he can't get any decent beer. It is truly embarrassing Miss Summers, to see a former member of the King's own Reconnaissance in such a state."

 

Natasha bit back a hiss of surprise and kept her face neutral. King's own Reconnaissance was a euphemism for the Lion's Commando teams.

 

"Now now Ganesh," Al wagged his finger, "No telling tales out of school."

 

"Of course sir."

 

"So," Buffy asked, "You guys need to get your things?"

 

"No we have them here Miss Summers," Al slapped a large bundle by his feet, "We should probably change into something a little more civilian train traveler however. You go first Sergeant."

 

"Sir!" Ganesh was up and moving quickly through the crowd. Al poured himself and the twp women another beer.

 

"So a Shock Trooper and a Commando walk into a bar...that sounds like the start of a bloody awful joke you know."

 

"Da, but do you know definition of a joke in Red Star?"

 

"No, I can't say as I've heard it Gospaza. Pray, enlighten me."

 

"Joke doesn't matter, but punch line always 'but only six people died!' It describes State's sense of humor perfectly."

 

"Oh I say, that is good. Depressing, but quite good," Al drank his beer. "Miss Summers, what are you doing in this godforsaken place. I can almost understand why your friend is here. What is your stake in the matter?"

 

"It's what I do," the short woman replied. "Save people, the world, whatever. Get pushed around like a extra-dimensional chew-toy. You get used to it."

 

"Extra-dimensional? Are you a PHE magnet?"

 

"Pee aitch eee? What's that?" Buffy looked genuinely puzzled.

 

"Obviously not I see. Well never mind, it really isn't that important..."

 

"...Until it is Mister. I'll let you slide this time because your buddy is on his way back."

 

"Alright...I think," Al got up and left as Ganesh returned.

 

"So did he tell any lies? Actually, did he say anything? If he did, that means a yes to my first question," Ganesh grinned.

 

"You have served with him a while?" Natasha asked.

 

"Yes. It has been my dubious honor to protect the idiot from himself. He of course, would say it's the other way around. Perhaps both or neither of us is right," Ganesh gave a semi-introspective look and poured himself another beer.

 

"He's your best friend isn't he?" Buffy asked.

 

Ganesh nodded ruefully, "I make such terrible choices sometimes."

 

"But you protected another before him?" Natasha mused.

 

"Yes," Ganesh sighed, "In a nasty little backwater in Suden. He was no Albert Brooks-Wilde however. He was certainly not a good soldier or a good man."

 

He leaned back and sipped his beer silently until Al returned wearing a cheap gray suit, "I checked with the barman. The next train out is within an hour. If we leg it we can probably get on board."

 

Natasha nodded, "That sounds acceptable."

 

The four left the table and exited the bar. After a few moments Ganesh said almost to himself, "Who could be so stupid as to be following us?"

 

Buffy replied, "The six idiots on the ground behind us and the four moving down the side street maybe?"

 

"It was a rhetorical question," Ganesh sighed.

 

"Hammer and anvil?" Natasha asked.

 

"Certainly sounds like it Gospaza. Sergeant, no firearms. No need to disturb the neighbors."

 

"Of course sir. Miss Summers, would you like to stay here and stop the hammer, while the Captain and your friend deal with the anvil?"

 

"That sounds like fun!" The two melted into the shadows at the sides of the alley.

 

Al looked behind him for signs of either of the two, "You know Gospaza..."

 

"You may call me Natasha."

 

"Only if you call me Al. Natasha, your friend is really quite bloody good at this."

 

"You have no idea...Al."

 

They had gone forward a ways when a cough sounded ahead of them and a voice called out in worse Lion than Natasha's, "Stop! Give all money or die!"

 

"Was that a threat old bean?" Al turned to Natasha, "That actually sounded like a threat didn't it?"

 

Natasha nodded, "Did he mean us die or them die?"

 

"Excellent question my dear. Ahem! If we don't give you all our money, do we die or do you die?"

 

"What?" the voice sounded confused.

 

"I think you broke him Natasha. That question you suggested was obviously far too difficult for his simple faculties. Pity."

 

The voice called out again, "You die if not give all money!"

 

"Ah, an answer. Shall we?" the Lion Officer looked at the Fleet NCO who nodded. Then the pair moved forward.

 

Green light crackled and shone around Al's body as a quickly kast suit of Protocol armor appeared. Natasha's hook floated out from inside her jacket and was soon spinning in a propeller fashion in front of her. There were several scattered gunshots from the ambushers, but the bullets either spattered harmlessly off Al's armor or scattered from the rotating defensive shield of Natasha's.

Natasha reached the spokesman first, and with a Bersk throw pitched him bodily through a ramshackle door. Al had kast another protocol and now his fists were glowing bright green. He had gotten to the two shooters, and was almost leisurely dodging their wild swings once they found their pistols were ineffective. Then he swung and connected. The force released from the fist lifted his opponent off the ground knocked him unconscious in that one contact.

Natasha moved on the next visible target, and after tripping him with her hook side-kicked him into a pile of refuse. She looked over to see Al's second strike discharge and duplicate the effect seen with the first. A moment later his armor dissipated and she stowed her hook.

 

"Nicely done Natasha," the kaster said as he straightened his tie.

 

"Thank you. I have never seen Lion protocols at such short range before. They are quite effective."

 

"I think they do the job quite admirably myself. And look who's joining us..." Buffy and Ganesh came running up.

 

"We heard shots Captain!"

 

"Tasha, are you and Al all right?"

 

"Pchelka, we fine. And your new friends?"

 

"Taking naps Tasha. They were really sleepy. Being a sneak and a crook really must wear you out."

 

"I think you are right. Shall we go?" Natasha asked and at the others nod she continued on towards the train station.

 

 

**Change of Plans**

 

The trip back to the the Khүiteeria/URRS border was uneventful as was the purchase of the foursome's tickets, Baba Yaga's gold still blinding the minds with its luster. Departing the train before it got to the station and the custom's checkpoint was also quick.

During the trip north, Ganesh and Al had continued their barbs at each other's competence much to Natasha's bemusement and Buffy's amusement. It was drawn out that Albert did indeed possess a knighthood as well as being the eldest son of a baronet, "Meaning," as Al put it, "all I get is a higher tax rate and more doormen tipping their hats at restaurants I can't afford." And,resources that Ganesh had been married twice and was hiding from both ex-wives and his mother, all three of which he sent money to, The comment about his mother was, "Fearsome woman. A hundred and two and she can still crush boulders with a mere glance."

Natasha was still trying to determine if that statement was literal or figurative when it was time for their departure. Jumping from the train was just as simple this time, but they found they had company when they landed.

 

"Jurag was right, they are sketchy characters," came a voice from the darkness speaking in far western accented Varan. In fact to Natasha's ears he had the exact same styles of cadence as some of the girls she had been to Ballet Academy with.

 

"Spies no doubt...trying to slip over the border and wreak havoc upon the Great State."

 

"No doubt," came a third voice. "We are to hold them here until a detachment of the First Hook arrives. I contacted them immediately after hearing the tip."

 

"Of course Praporshchik!" replied the first voice with the western accent, "You heard him! Keep an eye on them especially that tall one. He's a kaster apparently. He talks or looks like he he's about to move his arms, shoot him!"

 

Natasha's mind raced, if they had already contacted the First Hook, the division of the State Security Services of the Kommisariat specializing in counter-intelligence, there was no chance in bribing them. The Kommissar would arrive, possibly, since kasting had been mentioned, bringing along an infokaster from the Fifth Hook. 

 

"Tasha," Buffy whispered, "How bad is it?"

 

"Border Security. Normally easy to bribe. But officer sounds ambitious, called in witch hunter."

 

"Quiet you! What language was that?" came a yell from the probable Sergeant of the patrol.

 

"Sounds like Lion, Sergeant," came another voice from the darkness.

 

"Lion?" called out the Praporshchik. "They are most certainly spies, or at the very least smugglers."

 

"Should we check their bags for contraband sir?" an almost eager voice called out.

 

"Yes, that would be a wise idea. Perhaps there are articles of an inflammatory nature in their possession. We must protect the standards of the State. Sergeant, take three men and confiscate their bags."

 

"Viktor, Andre, Konstantin! With me!" a bright light shone out from a mount under the barrel of a RKG-71 assault rifle as the Sergeant advanced. Soon three more lights clicked on and also moved forward.

 

"Full patrol. Fifteen men including Sergeant and Officer," Natasha said out loud. "Excellent chance no hooks. Only guns and knives."

 

"I said Silence!" the Sergeant called out as he approached Natasha. One man was moving towards Buffy and the other two were coming at Al and Ganesh from opposite sides.

 

Natasha waited until he was shining the light directly in her face before reaching out with her telekinesis and pushing the barrel of his weapon skyward, while kicking him in the stomach. He pitched over gasping as she rolled to one side and readied her hook.

 

"Lights!" the officer yelled, "Get lights on them!" His remaining troops started following the order and Natasha's light dazzled eyes saw the amazing sight of Buffy bodily hurling the soldier that had been approaching her, straight at the source of the officer's voice. He did not travel far enough to impact the officer, but the startled yelp indicated that terror had been induced.

 

"Tasha! How do you say, "My baby sister is more threatening'?"

 

"Moya mladshaya sestra bolyee ugrozhayushchyei!"

 

"Thank you! My mulledshape ceestra bowling ugly-gross-hi-you-achoo!"

 

"Shto?" was the surprised response.

 

"Tasha I think I said it wrong!"

 

"We work on it later!"

 

"Sounds like plannage."

 

Sporadic shots were being fired now. Mainly at Al, who had kast his armor protocol as soon as Natasha had attacked. He had dimmed it down somehow so it now was a barely visible dull green glow and was firing careful shots from a suppressed pistol. Ganesh was nowhere to be seen, but she was sure he was probably circling around to engage from the rear.

Natasha started her hook in its defensive spin angling its wall of protection towards the most enthusiastic shooters. while she began to advance.

 

"Bozhe moy! Krasnogo Flota!" one of the Border Guards spotting her hook shouted.

 

"Damn right I'm Red Fleet," she thought to herself, "And you are certainly not..."

 

Buffy was in a group of them now, disarming and incapacitating lightly armored guardsmen almost trivially while being completely surrounded. Ganesh had reappeared and was fighting his way towards the short woman. Al now had holstered his pistol and was engaged in unarmed combat with a man nearly his height. He hadn't even bothered kasting the impact protocol on his hands this time. Using solely skill against his opponent's brute force.

The fight ended rather quickly after that point. Natasha having clubbed the Officer unconscious at the completion of her charge. 

"So," she called out in her best voice of command, "Which one of you little children would like to tell me how you knew about us?" her hook spun next to her so quickly, it was making a buzzing sound and kicking up a light breeze.

 

One of the younger looking Border Guards spoke up, "The Sergeant, he received a tip from a friend of his in Tochoi-Temtsegech. Some hooligans that caused trouble. The Praporshchik thought that you might jump the train before it entered the city and this is a normal sort of place for that to occur."

 

"Thank you Guardsman. You may keep your pants and jacket. All the rest of you...Strip!"

 

Soon there were fourteen shivering guardmen in their underwear and their boots along with the one still clothed. "Who is your driver?" Natasha asked. One raised his shaking hand.

"Where is your hauler?" The driver pointed off to the west. Natasha pointed to Ganesh, "Go with him. Bring vehicle back." Ganesh was so surprised at the order he saluted instinctively and trotted off with the driver. Soon a half track enclosed APC pulled up. Ganesh opened the side door and exited dragging the driver with him.

 

"Good work Sergeant," Natasha said. "Now you three get aboard and bring their clothes and gear, Sergeant you drive." Buffy and Al both grinning entered the vehicle with Ganesh following. Natasha looked at the mostly naked troops in front of her disdainfully.

 

"To be accepted as a Shock Trooper we had to run thirty miles in snow, naked except for our boots. You have your underthings as well and only five miles to get to town and warmth. It should not pose a problem for good members of the State such as yourselves..."

 

She swung aboard the APC and climbed up to the commander's cupola as Ganesh gunned the rugged engine. Turning to face the Border Guardsmen, she snapped off a quick salute then faced front again trying not to laugh.

 

 

**Westward**

 

The four sped through the night in their newly acquired hauler. It was a older TiL-459 Light Infantry carrier Natasha noted with the winter tracked drive system installed on the mid and rear wheel sets. It had been dropped by the Red Fleet as a tactical vehicle some twenty years earlier, but as the State never threw anything away it had migrated down to the Border Guards as a transport.

As a Border Guard vehicle it had no weaponry mounted, but they were now in possession of ten assault rifles including two with grenade launchers attached, three sub-machine guns, and two light support automatic rifles; as well as enough ammunition for a fifteen man Guard's team. Then there were the rations and uniforms which Buffy was sorting through.

Natasha climbed down from the commander's cupola and shut the hatch. At least the heaters worked and soon her chilled face had started to thaw. "Anything interesting Pchelka?"

 

"Actually yeah. Fifteen sets of identity type papers. One of which looks pretty close to Al, even has the mongo mustache."

 

"What do you mean mongo? I take great pride in its care," was Al's response from the co-driver's seat.

 

"Nothing bad...It's just really impressive Al."

 

"Ah some of that WTA slang I gather? The way you colonists destroy the King's good Lion is a sad thing," he got up from his seat and moved back into the troop compartment.

 

"The Sergeant. He good driver," Natasha said.

 

"Ganesh is pretty amazing at most things. Don't tell him I said that though, he'll become absolutely bloody insufferable," the Lion winked at the two women as he sat down on on of the troop seats that lined the compartment walls.

 

"I have to admit Natasha, I may have...encountered Fleet in the past. Even possibly some Shock Troopers, but I have never seen such power or precision with a hook before this evening's adventure. That was bloody incredible."

 

Natasha felt herself flushing, "It was nothing. I know of better."

 

"How many better? One...maybe two? When the Fleet lost you, they lost a rare talent. And Buffy, how in blazes did you hurl that guardsman so far? What sort of WTA special protocol program were you with?"

 

"I always listened to my mother, and ate my vegetables like a good girl so I'd grow up strong."

 

"Protocol laced vegetables I'd bloody wager," Al snorted.

 

"I've been meaning to ask," Buffy went on, "You're from Tweedland, but don't wear any. Tweed that is. Are you allergic?"

 

"Tweed? Do you mean tweel like the bloody fabric?"

 

"Yeah I do. I'm pretty bad at the word manglage."

 

"Well the answer's no. Do I look like a bloody ivory tower type? I'm a field craftsman and damn proud of it. My father and brothers, they're the ones that are all snug in their tweel jackets and hunting togs for a days tramp on the moors."

 

Buffy raised her hands in surrender, "All right you're not in the tweely set, I get it. I think I'll see what Ganesh is up to." With that she moved forward into the driver's compartment of the vehicle.

 

"So," Al turned to look at Natasha, "You two are a very strange pair. I'd ask how you met, but I seriously doubt I would get a bloody straight answer. Therefore, I will instead ask, what the chances of us getting away are?"

 

"Well, they embarrassed and thought drinking. Some had alcohol on breath actually. Now they have to explain loss of vehicle and equipment including weapons. First Hook team will think bandits and probably search south into Khүiteeria. Fifteen armed men defeated by four would sound stupid. So guardsmen will say twenty, maybe even more. This also sounds like bandits."

 

She leaned back and thought for a moment before continuing, "They search south first. When not find vehicle they look north towards closest towns. If we get to Bystrekuz before they start looking west we will make it. How much fuel?"

 

"Ganesh said it was almost full."

 

"This have range of several hundred miles. We not need to stop."

 

"Well that's good at least. So, are you married?"

 

"Shto!?"

 

"There isn't a husband or boyfriend you have to call to let know you're all right?"

 

Natasha blushed bright red.

 

"I take it that reaction means no. Well then, I believe I'll have a nap. Wake me if death is imminent please," Using a folded up greatcoat for a pillow Al leaned back and went to sleep.

 

Natasha sat there and stared at him for a long while before she finally leaned back and fell asleep as well.

She was awoken by the jostling and shaking as the vehicle lurched from one side to the other. Looking over she saw that Al was still asleep with the ends of his mustache twitching as he exhaled. Stretching she climbed the step up into the cupola again and swung open the hatch making sure her scarf was covering her face and the crew goggles she had found were over her eyes.

The sun was just coming up behind them and the air was crisp and dry. They were bouncing down what looked like a battered trail that was covered with krawl tracks. She slipped the command headset on and keyed the intercom.

"You use broken ground to cover our tracks?"

 

"Ah good morning!" Ganesh responded, "Is himself still lost to dreams?"

 

"I believe so."

 

"Good, he needs his rest. Kasting without the proper components takes a lot out of him. In answer to your question, yes, It looks like a convoy has recently traveled this way. The ice hasn't refrozen yet on some of the puddles. If we do bump into them, would you mind staying up there and looking official?"

 

"Good idea, could you ask Buffy to hand up Officer's hat?"

 

"Certainly."

 

A moment later there was a tapping on her leg and a furry hat passed up.

 

"Thank you Pchelka."

 

"No problem Tasha. You know last night, you were all in command and stuff. It was pretty great to watch."

 

"I have not done that sort of thing in a very long time."

 

"Yeah, but you still knew exactly what to do. Very cool," with that Buffy returned to the co-driver's seat. Natasha pulled on the Praporshchik's uniform hat and stayed up in the cupola watching the world bounce by.

 

 

**Vanishing Act**

 

Natasha had been riding up top for about an hour, watching the dawn break through the mountains, when there was a tap on her leg, "Yes Pchelka?"

 

"No insects here old bean, only Lions. Breakfast?" It was Al with a squeeze tube of field ration sausage paste and a packet of crackers.

 

"Da, I come down."

 

When she was in the main crew compartment she saw that Ganesh was brewing tea, "Buffy driving?"

 

"Yes, the switch-off was smooth enough and as all she has to do is follow the roadway I believed I could take the chance to stretch. Tea?"

 

"Pozhaluista...Uh, please."

 

"I understood you," Ganesh said with a smile, "as does his nibs." He pointed at Al who was trying his best to keep a 'Who me?' expression on his face. "Your Lion is quite good though."

 

"I have been having a lot of practice recently," she looked at the driver's compartment.

 

A cheery voice called, "That's because I don't speak hers very well. But I am learning!"

 

"Your hearing is quite excellent," Ganesh called back.

 

"Thank you! So's your curiosity."

 

Ganesh looked over at Al and Natasha, "She is a secret WTA experiment in morning cheerfulness that has been weaponized?"

 

"No, no, no," Al cut in, "She is a protocol enhanced laboratory construct. Nothing can possibly be that bloody happy just driving."

 

"Hey!" came a affronted shout from the front, "This non-protocol enhanced, at least in the way you guys mean it. Non-lab made woman, non-happiness experiment would like to take offense at those statementy things!"

 

Al and Ganesh started laughing at that, "Please accept our sincere apologies Miss Summers, the Sergeant here is truly contrite."

 

"I am so terribly sorry for casting dubious queries on your character," Ganesh called out.

 

"That's more like it. Tasha, I'm glad you're superior enough not to be dragged down by those two little boys."

 

Tasha grinned, "Well, I Fleet after all."

 

That statement got all four laughing and the trip continued.

It was mid-morning when they saw the outskirts of Bystrekuz.

 

"So Commander Plekhanovna," Al asked, "What's the plan?"

 

"Me? Commander? You commander, you Officer."

 

"Yes, well this is your country and you seem to be a tich better at this than I. Look at last night. Excellent snap decisions, clarity of purpose. Face up to the truth, the Red Fleet lost a superb Non Commissioned Officer when they lost you."

 

Natasha felt a wave of sadness come over her.

 

"Hey Al, could you come up here and give me a break? I think I chipped a nail and that has to be dealt with immediately."

 

"What? Of course," the tall officer moved forward and soon Buffy was back and sitting next to Natasha.

 

"Easy Tasha, he doesn't know."

 

"Ya ponimayu, it just painful." 

 

Ganesh sat down on the other side, "What did he say so I can thrash the stupid out of him later?"

 

Buffy cleared her throat, "Tasha was one of the survivors of Kar Dartha's Gate."

 

"Oh dear...We heard about that. Every soldier in the world I should think, has heard about that."

 

"Well," Buffy continued, "Because she survived they offered her a commission-y thing to be an officer."

 

"I not deserve," Natasha sobbed, "Children die and I live. It not right for reward."

 

"You were leading conscripts?"

 

"Yes, new to Fleet. I Starshyna so they put me in charge of new troops. You can keep them alive, Captain say. I fail at that."

 

"Well how could you have saved them? Barring not letting them anywhere near the battlefield of course."

 

"I do not know. I only know that they should not have died and I lived."

 

"What is that saying of the Shock Troopers...Nas malo, no my v telnyashkakh?" Ganesh reached over and pulled the gold with white stripes undershirt cuff out from under Natasha's jacket. "You earned this and the gold beret did you not?"

 

"Tasha, what does that sentence mean?" Buffy asked quietly.

 

"We few in number, but we wear telnyashka. This shirt, it one of things I keep from before like my hook. Symbol of Shock Troopers. We issued our first when accepted to unit. Illegal if any other than accepted wears one. But once accepted, can wear one for life."

 

"Natasha," Ganesh continued, "What I'm trying to say is only the best get that shirt. You were assigned to those young troops when you returned to the Fleet, because you had the best chance of keeping them alive. If you couldn't have saved them, I'm reasonably certain no one could have. I'm know even your commanders were not all idiots, so when they saw an experienced senior sergeant with language skills and was a Shock Trooper... Of course they wanted to commission you as an officer. They probably transferred you back to Fleet just so you would have command experience with regular forces again. The commission was in your future whether there was a Battle at Kar Dartha's Gate or not."

 

"How you know so much?"

 

"I have been a soldier for thirty three years. my first battle was in the Namaz Insurrection back when I was just seventeen. I was simply Ghuri infantry then. In the past thirty years I have learned that command is wise and stupid and never sure which they should be at any given time. Much like Al."

 

"Was he a good officer?" Natasha asked.

 

"Superb. Honest, loyal, and clever. Then for reasons not under either of our control, we were...separated from the Lion's Service and have spent the last several years performing odd jobs here and there."

 

"Now you here..."

 

Yes Natasha, now we are here."

 

Al's voice came back from the driver's compartment, "Have any of you come up with a bloody plan yet?"

 

"Da," Natasha called out, "Follow krawl tracks to vehicle park. We leave there in maintenance area. With no paperwork or order it sit for months, maybe forever."

 

"Oh I say I like that," Al replied. "Following tracks into military base. You three might want to get into costume."

 

"Costume?" Buffy asked, then looked over at the pile of uniforms, "Ah, I so totally got you."

 

It was easy enough to get uniforms that mostly fit Natasha and Al. But Buffy and Ganesh, because of their lack of height, were a little tougher. Finally the pair decided on just wearing greatcoats, hats and carrying an assault rifle would probably work as Natasha was going to be the one doing all the talking if necessary anyway and they could stay in the background.

Ganesh back at the wheel, the vehicle drove through the gates to an immense motor pool. The gate guard saluting the appropriately dressed Border Guard officer riding in the commander's cupola.

"Ganesh, head towards back of vehicle park. That where older equipment stored," Natasha told the Ghuri over the headset.

 

Soon they were in an area filled with old krawls and and other surplus-to-needs hardware. Ganesh found a row of identical vehicles to the one they were in and carefully parked it in a gap in the line.

As they disembarked a guard called out to them, "What's going on?"

 

"Decommission, our motor sergeant has sent the paperwork over to headquarters already."

 

"Decommission? That looks in fine shape."

 

"Am I one to question the will and wisdom of the State?" Natasha replied in as sarcastic a tone as possible. The guard laughed.

 

"Oh no, you won't catch me that way. You know of course Third Department is always listening."

 

Natasha laughed along with the guard's joking reply, "Wisely said Tovarisch."

 

"Thank you Tovarisch Praporshchik," and the guard resumed his patrol.

 

"Not bad Natasha," Al muttered to her as they walked along. "Decommission is even better than maintenance."

 

"Da, in hour or so, no more thermal signature also. We vanish poof."

 

The four walked casually out of the facility, the gate guard even saluting the officer, and soon were in the city of Bystrekuz.

 

 

**The Kommissariat**

 

The quartet walked into the bustling frozen metropolis. One quick pass through a hotel to dispose of their uniforms and weapons and four relatively average civilians made their way out a different exit.

"I wish I could have kept the furry hat, It actually kept my ears warm," the short woman groused. 

 

The tall man laughed, "When this is over I'll make sure to get you one my dear."

 

"I'll hold you to that Al."

 

"I'm sure you will old bean."

 

"Who are you calling old? Am I getting wrinkles? Tasha! You'd tell me if I was getting wrinkles wouldn't you?"

 

"I was not going to mention it Pchelka, but..."

 

"What! You meanie!"

 

After a stop in a restaurant to get some hot food, they headed for the station.

Buffy raised her hand in warning, "Hold up guys, I'm starting to get a non-good feely thing from that building."

 

Natasha stopped and scanned the area, "You see something?"

 

"Nope. Just a feeling. Like the shadow guys."

 

"Shadow guys? What have you two been holding out on us. I would bloody like to know," Al hissed.

 

"Easy Captain," Ganesh said calmingly, "I do not believe they are plotting against the pride of the Brooks-Wilde's."

 

"Of course not, my brother isn't anywhere near...Oh you were bloody talking about me weren't you?"

 

'Men," Buffy sighed, "Always so quick on the uptake-age thing."

 

"Da, eta pravda. Now where source of bad?"

 

"Inside that building," she pointed at the station. "It feels slimy? And old. It feels slimy and really old."

 

"Well," Natasha commented, "There surveillance on train station. At least four vehicles. None in uniform."

 

"First Hook?" Al asked.

 

"Possibly, but notice. No police stationed outside. Not even normal ones. This Land's of Red Star and train station. Security, First Hook, and transportation like Kommisar and vodka. Always together."

 

"Second Hook wouldn't be in civilian clothes and would have regular troops nearby and we haven't spotted their transports...Fifth?" Al mused.

 

"Fifth? Da, that possible. With you here very possible."

 

"What's Fifth?" Buffy asked.

 

"Fifth Hook of the Kommissariat." Ganesh began,"The Kommissariat is the Red Star's Intelligence Service. It's divided into six sections all but one called hooks after the Red Fleet weapon. First Hook are spies and counter-spies. That's the unit that officer was waiting for. Second Hook deals with intelligence in the military. Fourth Hook's responsibility is putting down sedition and insurrection. Fifth is in charge of all matters dealing with protocol based spying or terrorism..."

 

"It's all ex-military kasters. All combat vets from what we bloody know," muttered Al.

 

"Sixth provides security specialists for high-ranking Red Star individuals," finished Ganesh.

 

"You skipped Third Hook," Buffy noticed, "What do they do?"

 

"There no Third Hook. There Third Department and what they do mystery that find people asking about it very dead," Natasha replied.

 

"Yes, what she bloody well said. You do not ask questions about Third Department unless you are the Premier or bloody Imbohl himself from what I understand. So Commander Natasha, what are the orders?"

 

"People still going in and out so not locked down. They watch and wait. Al, how would they spot protocols?

 

"An invested scanner. Basically it's a bit of kit that you put around a door frame. Doesn't need a kaster watching it, but if it's Fifth involved here, there are probably one or two close by. Probably only one. I can't think why the Bystrekuz Oblast would have more," Al looked worried.

 

"So it works like a metal detector?" Buffy asked, "I mean once you're past it it can't spot you right?"

 

"Exactly."Al replied.

 

"Okay. They aren't that common I bet so they would probably put it on one entrance and lock all the others," the short woman thought aloud.

 

"With few devices that what I would do," Natasha affirmed Buffy's thoughts.

 

"Right," Buffy said, "I'll be opening the door on the back of the station. See you in a little bit!"

 

With that she hurried off and entered the building. Just another civilian.

 

"What just happened?" Al looked slightly stunned.

 

"I think we should go around to the back of the building," Ganesh replied. "I think that lunatic has a plan."

 

"Da, she does. But I not sure she lunatic."

 

"I am taking you on faith for that my dear," Al said as he started heading across the street, "Pure faith."

 

The now trio made their way behind the building only to see a short figure beckoning them.

"Come on!" Buffy whispered. They entered into a small maintenance corridor, stepping over the two unconscious soldier's bodies, and were soon out in the main terminal. Natasha moved to the ticket window to purchase the tickets while the other three scattered to make themselves less-obvious. Natasha finished her purchase quickly and was stepping away from the counter when she saw two thuggish types in State supplied ugly suits and trenchcoats, being led by a very beautiful woman in a tailored suit coming towards her.

 

"Tovarishch. Would you mind coming with us? We have some questions," the woman said. The woman produced a badge with the numeral 3 inset into the symbol of the Kommissariat.

 

"Third?"

 

"Ah, you have heard of us at least in passing. Good. You know then that we may kill you at anytime we see fit. Or we can spare you. Come along."

 

Natasha let herself follow studiously avoiding her companions eyes. When she passed Buffy who was apparently making a telephone call from a booth, she flashed three fingers down. Out of the corner of her eye she Buffy raise her hand as if to scratch her forehead then she heard...

"Get clear! She has a shadow inside her!"

 

 

**Break Out**

 

Natasha hit the floor rolling to one side. Passing through the space she had just been standing in she saw a trash can narowly miss the woman and plow into one of the thugs. The force of the impact was so great that it crumpled the steel can like it was made of tissue paper and lifted the hapless goon and carried him twenty feet away. Surprisingly he sat up and began to get to his feet.

"I knew he wasn't human! Only the undead or demons have fashion sense that awful!"

 

"What are you girl?" the well-dressed woman was speaking to Buffy. "It looks like the WTA has some new types of agents..." 

 

Natasha took the opportunity to ready her hook from under her long coat and extend it. 

 

The other thug saw her and spoke, "Red Fleet? Interesting," before dropping into a defensive stance.

 

Natasha peeled off her coat so that he could see her gold and white telnyashkakh. Her opponent's monobrow raised. "Well now, let's see how good you are Shock Trooper..." was the response. before he charged.

 

"With pleasure durak..." she had been allowing the hook to float alongside her fore-arm and brought her arm in front of her. The hook obediently following as was her plan. Once it was between her and the brute's swing she locked it in place. The thug's fist rang against the metal and bounced off. The force was enough to actually push the hook closer to her by almost an inch.

Natasha dropped into a split and cast her hook up to clothesline the Third Department thug while she punched him in the groin then spun away. It felt like hitting a wall with her fist, but ithe pair of impacts did cause him to step back. Smoothly rising to her feet she called her hook back to her and set it to slowly orbit her body. Then suddenly feinting left she grabbed her hook and used it to pole vault up and over the thug before planting a drop kick in the back of his neck using her telekinesis to amplify her own natural strength.

He landed sprawling on his face, but quickly scrambled to his feet.

 

"Not bad Trooper!" a trickle of blood came out of his nose. Perhaps she had broken it? "That fancy toy means nothing to a true servant of the State."

 

"You've never fought a real Trooper before have you?" Natasha asked. "Maybe a wish-they-were once or twice. Here, allow me to demonstrate the use of the hook."

 

"You can't hurt me."

 

"Well I'm certainly going to try," she leaped up into the air and locked her hook in place to use it as a horizontal bar. Swinging once to gather momentum to swung up into a handstand before letting go and flying upwards her hook now following her until she was perched on top of it twenty feet above her opponent.

 

"What!?!" the surprise sounded genuine and Natasha grinned and took a quick glance around.

 

Buffy and the other thug were engaged in an absolutely brutal display of hand to hand combat that was destroying benches, lockers, and any other item that got in their way. Al was engaging the entirety of the normal security troops. His armor protocol deflecting their shots and a glowing green sword and shield as his weapons. Ganesh was engaged with the woman and he had called forth his Kura, the protocol blade that was bound to his tattoo. It was a blade of fire and was causing the woman, who had extruded black six inch long claws from her hands, apparently no end of discomfort. Satisfied that her companions were not in immediate danger, Natasha let her hook fall towards the floor before locking it in place a second before her falling hands contacted it. Using it as a fulcrum she pivoted on it like a gymnast's uneven bar and kicked the thug in the face using all her momentum. She felt the impact through her Fleet issued combat boots, and using his face as a springboard, kicked off into a somersault before landing on her feet, her hook settling in her outstretched hand.

The thug was lying flat on his back. She stood over him, "I do not wish to kill you Comrade," she said quietly.

 

"I have no such reservations!" The thug kipped up and sent a blindingly fast series of punches towards her face and chest.

 

"That means of course the real threat is to the legs," she thought. As she was expecting it it was a simple matter to sidestep and take the kick on her hook which flexed under the incredible impact. As the thug recovered from the blocked kick she stepped back and hurled her hook at his throat. The razor sharp blade, now with the protective guard removed and propelled by her full strength and her full will passed completely through his neck and shattered his spine.

 

"I merely said I did not wish to...Not that I wouldn't," calling her hook back, she went towards Ganesh and the woman. The pair were circling each other. Ganesh had several bleeding wounds on his face and arms, while three of the woman's fingers looked burned off and her hair was smoldering.

 

"Gospoza Third Department, may I ask why you're involved with a border problem?" Natasha asked politely.

 

"You killed a kamen lyudoeda? Who are you?" the woman looked quite startled.

 

"Obviously not your Shadow's friend!"

 

"How did she know about that?" 

 

"Ask her yourself if you live through this," Natasha swung her hook low at the woman's legs. Her target sidestepped away from the blade and right into Ganesh's Kuro strike that laid her left arm open to the bone...if there had been bone inside. Instead a thick black mist began to pour out and settle on the floor like a heavy oil. The woman's body began collapsing like a deflating balloon as the mist spilled out on to the floor.

 

"What in the names of the 10,000 gods!" Ganesh yelled. Natasha looked around and saw that Al had disarmed and was now glaring at the security troops, while Buffy had managed to impale the other thug with a heavy wooden coat rack.

 

"Al, Ganesh, Buffy! We must go! Now!" she took off running, scooping up her coat and pack as she went. 

 

The four sprinted for the front doors; Buffy arriving first and with a high flying kick ripping one off its hinges. Natasha and Ganesh were right behind her and were stopping the security troops that had exited their unmarked cars with brutal efficiency. Natasha's hook was spinning now, providing protection in case some one got the bright idea to start shooting. Al brought up the rear.

"Al," Natasha called out, "Transport!"

 

Al headed for one of the now vacated vehicles and started it up, "Get in!"

 

Buffy was in the process of fighting another one of Third's thugs that had been outside and finally dispatched him by throwing him into the path of an oncoming bus, while Natasha and Ganesh scrambled aboard the vehicle Al had started.

 

"Buffy!"

 

"I'm coming Tasha! It's just that guy was so clingy..." she dove through the open door into the back seat as Al pulled away from the curb.

 

Driving quickly Al merged into traffic as sirens were blaring far behind them heading for the station.

"Okay, what the bloody hell were they? For that matter what the bloody hell are you two? Buffy is stronger than anything I've ever seen without kasting an augmentation protocol and I have never seen hook work like yours Natasha."

 

"I was Red Fleet Engine Pull Champion for three years running."

 

"That's like the bloody hook World Championships isn't it?"

 

"Da."

 

"So Buffy, you're the WTA's World bloody Champion power lifter and flinger?"

 

"Would you do the belief thing if I said yes?" the short woman asked all wide eye and innocent.

 

"Not really."

 

"Then no," and she shut up.

 

"Wait a moment," Ganesh spoke up, "You said Red Fleet Champion, not women's champion."

 

"Da, I beat all who challenged me. That was a long time ago though."

 

"Well you have certainly not lost your skills."

 

"Thank you, I thought I was slow on response though."

 

"Alright barring the bloody bodybuilder in midget's clothing..."

 

"Hey!"

 

"...I said, barring the bloody bodybuilder in midget's clothing. What were the rest of those guys."

 

"The two thugs felt like ogres. Dumb, strong, and stupidly tough," Buffy volunteered. "Seeing you take that one down was incredible Tasha."

 

"Ogres? She called it kamen lyudoeda. That means uh...stone cannibal I think."

 

"Ogres like eating humans so I'd say that's pretty close." Buffy nodded to herself, "At least some of the nightlife is similar."

 

"What about the smoke filled woman?" Ganesh asked.

 

"No clueage there I'm afraid."

 

"So Buffy who are you?" Al asked again turning slightly to face her.

 

Before she could answer a glowing protocol framework appeared around their vehicle and suddenly it was in a plain concrete room. Al slammed on the brakes as Buffy, Ganesh and Natasha kicked open their doors and rolled out on the defensive.

A single set of hands applauding sounded, echoing off the smooth walls.

"Impressive," a voice boomed out, "Now who in th'heck are y'all and why d'ya have Third's panties in a bind?"

 

Buffy was the first to speak, "I've died and gone to Texas?"

 

 

**Interrogation**

 

The four had been separated and expertly searched by the strange gentleman with the loud voice's assistants. As none of the intrepid quartet knew exactly where they were at the moment, they had allowed themselves to be taken into custody. All of there items were removed except four Buffy's eyepatch, which the assistants found was unable for any of them to remove, and Baba Yaga's pouch of gold which the woman searching actually removed from the pocket of Natasha's coat, took the coat, and handed the pouch back.

Two were actually pleading with Buffy to remove the patch, but the short woman was playing dumb and kept asking them to take it off for her as she couldn't remove it. Natasha grinned slightly. This simply showed that the WTA wasn't as all-powerful as they'd like to think.

Now that she was in a room with a plain table and two chairs and was wearing a simple pair of coveralls and slippers, she had time to think. There was no possible way a facility like this was set up within the Lands of the Red Star. That meant wherever that Jumpgate Protocol had taken them, it was far more powerful than any she had ever seen personally. That also meant that if this was a WTA operation, the almost legendary Counter Espionage Directorate, the CED, was behind it. With that happy thought in mind she sat down and waited patiently.

An indeterminate time later a tall well tanned man entered. "Translation and Recording on!" He took the other chair and placed a fat document folder on the table between them.

 

"Y'all know what this here is?" he tapped the folder.

 

"Allow me to guess. It is my complete life, everything you know about me. I have a question though. Why did I suddenly show up in Bystrekuz after vanishing for so long? If that folder does have all the information about me, then answer that."

 

The man chuckled, "Well now Missy, that was the one question we couldn't answer. And the one I'm here to ask."

 

"How about, Where have I been for the past decade then? Can you answer that? Also my name is not 'Missy' it is Natasha Ivanova Plekhanova."

 

"Alright Miss Plekhanova, maybe it's true your recent history is a little murky to us as well."

 

"Then do not attempt to use a 'We Know All' approach. What is next? Fear up? Fear down?"

 

"Ah. That's right we have a record of you being a Shock Trooper. You've been through at least one counter-interrogation course then."

 

"And I know as a civilian I have no rights or privileges through the Gotth Conventions on Handling of Prisoners. Why not simply ask questions and do not play games?"

 

"All righty then. Why were you engaged in combat with members of the Third Department?"

 

"They engaged us. We were simply purchasing tickets for the train."

 

"Why did they engage you?"

 

"I am not sure. I believe they were searching for something."

 

"A report we...obtained..."

 

"Intercepted?"

 

"All right, intercepted, suggests that the four of you defeated ten armed security troops along with three..."

 

"Four, there was one on the street."

 

"...Four augmented troops."

 

"That is probably true. I do not know exactly how many guards there were, as one of my associates dealt with them."

 

"And you fought one of the others?"

 

"Yes. An ogre I believe is the proper word in your language."

 

"You can continue to use your native tongue, the protocols will keep everything translated fine."

 

Natasha grinned, "Obviously you have not spoken to my short acquaintance then."

 

"That's the one I reckon that greeted me?"

 

"Yes. She has an interesting dialect of Lion."

 

"So I've gathered. Where in the heck did you two hook up?"

 

"On a game trail."

 

"You pokin' fun at me?"

 

"Not at all. I'm sure you have something that measures my levels of truthfulness."

 

"You do know the rules of this game, don't you?"

 

"I am from the Red Star. It is ingrained at birth."

 

"Ex-Fleet and Ex-Shock Trooper to boot, Hook Champion, Platoon Sergeant on fast track to Officer. Then you vanish for over ten years."

 

"I did not want to talk to anybody."

 

"And then you pop up like a weed..."

 

"Pardon?"

 

"You know that the Kommassariat has a detain and imprison alert out for you and your...acquaintances?"

 

"I did not, but I do not find it surprising."

 

"You seem remarkably calm about that. Why?"

 

"The one thing I am positive of at the moment is that currently I am well out of reach of the Red Star. You wish to talk not kill. Why should I be concerned? Am I not answering questions?"

 

"No...no you certainly are answering questions. It's just that nothin' you say or have done makes any sort o'sense with the way the Red Star works." He cleared his throat, "I mean you were headed for the top and then just disappeared. You're teamed up with a pair of Lions and someone that sounds like they're from Del Santos, and are breaking into your native country. Third Department is called out all the way to the Eastern Wastes. Please spare my ulcer, just tell me what's goin' on here?"

 

"My short associate and I were just helping out some travelers with a problem. They needed to go west and we had determined the safest way was through the Red Star as none of us had proper papers. We encountered some trouble at the border and were forced to use alternate means to to get to Bystrekuz. When we arrived we tried to take the train west and ran afoul of Third Department."

 

"What was their problem?"

 

"They needed to get to a location in the west. I do not know the exact locale. They never told me."

 

"And your sidekick?"

 

"She has kept closemouthed to others about her past. She is very small and had suffered hideous wounds when I found her."

 

"That burn?"

 

"Yes."

 

"What about that eye-patch of hers?"

 

"I believe it was a gift from a grandmother."

 

The man got up, "Well now I reckon that will do for a start. I'll be seein' ya later Natasha Ivanova!"

 

He left, the door shutting behind him. Natasha looked and waved at the four corners of the room where surveillance devices would be likely. Then she stood, stretched, and began running through the standard regimen of calisthenics the Red Fleet had proscribed as mandatory for Troopers physical fitness.

She was in the middle of her second series of leg raisers when. The man re-entered.

"So soon?" was her only comment.

 

"They say I just can't stay away from the ladies."

 

"Is that good or bad?"

 

He laughed, "When I figger it out you'll be th'second to know I promise." He dropped the folder on the table again and took his seat. Natasha got up and took hers as well.

 

"So we got y'all's fingerprints and sent 'em round to a bunch of agencies with names like alphabet soup. You pop up matching yer file. No real surprise. Those two Lions and yor sidekick...those three are a little different."

 

"How so?"

 

"Well both the Lions are listed as deserters, you are too by the by. Thing is I'm pretty sure running their prints sent off an alert o'some kind. Your sidekick now. That gets really interesting..."

 

He opened the file folder, spun it around and pushed it across the table to her. Natsha looked down and saw a picture of an unscarred, two-eyed, Buffy with shoulder length brown wavy hair.

 

"Mind telling me how she is with you in Bystrekuz and as an agent of good standing in the Central Intelligence Bureau, was also running down a bank robber in Gansett City on the east coast of the good ol' W, T, and A. Also, why the one here has scars and the one Gansett City doesn't?"

 

"It's similar. Very similar indeed..." was Natasha's response, "Why don't you ask her?"

 

"Kind of difficult. She's sort of escaped."

 

 

**Annoyed**

 

"She has escaped? Interesting, how?"

 

"Well, Miss Plekhanova were really not sure. She reached up to her eye-patch and all our surveillance went dead. Overloaded. We send a team in and bodies came flying out. Once she was clear of the room we lost track of her."

 

"Well then what did you ask her to annoy her so much?"

 

" 'Bout the same questions I've been askin' y'all."

 

"Why are you telling me about her escape?"

 

"Because y'might have some info that'll help with catchin' and not hurtin' her."

 

Natasha couldn't help herself, she started to laugh.

 

"What's so all fired funny? This little girl could be in a lotta trouble. My folks don't mess around."

 

"I assume you checked for protocols or invested objects and found nothing?"

 

"Well sure, all you folks are clean except that Claws of th'Lion fella. Not like we can cut his hand off though. Not if we want t'keep the Lions on our side at least."

 

Natasha felt the weight of Baba Yaga's coin pouch in her pocket and started laughing again. The WTA as usual, thought they knew all.

 

"Let me just say Mister...?"

 

"Hanover."

 

"Thank you, Mister Hanover. Let me just say, that when I first met my 'sidekick' as you refer to her. She had apparently been within inches of a Transformation Protocol impact zone and had survived."

 

"So that burn...?"

 

"Is the only trace remaining injury...yes."

 

"Well damn. Who is she?"

 

"Hasn't she told you her name already? You must have truly annoyed her."

 

"All she talked about is that she was not gettin' involved with Initiative wannabes and that all us government types can jest piss up a rope. Then she shut up."

 

"And you actually managed to annoy her enough so she stopped talking? You have a true gift Mister Hanover."

 

"I take silence is not her middle name?"

 

"No, I believe she said it was...it doesn't matter. What matters to you, is that you have an individual of unknown abilities and motivations loose in this secure facility and it happened on your watch," Natasha snorted, "I see why you came to me to beg for assistance. This will not look good on your security review."

 

"Ahhh...yes. That's pretty much it," Hanover looked slightly wilted.

 

"Remember, I grew up in the Red Star. Spotting political motivation is second nature there," Natasha decided to take some small mercy on the man. "Do not worry. She is not an enemy of the WTA as far as I can tell. Were any of your men seriously hurt?"

 

"Naw. Bruised and embarrassed mostly. She has a lot of power for her size."

 

"She will not use lethal force if it is not used against her. Of this I am also sure."

 

"You're positive of that Miss Plekhanova?"

 

Natasha nodded, "In our conversations she has stated she does not like to kill humans."

 

"What does she like to kill then?"

 

"Things that do. Your men are safe from serious injury if not embarrassment if they simply speak to her and ask her if she would like to speak to me."

 

"Would you go on the public address and ask her to surrender?"

 

"No Mister Hanover I will not. What I will say however is, that all four of this will be given quarters and our clothing and equipment back, and we will not be treated like prisoners. As I have said before, I you ask the questions I will answer them."

 

"What about the others?"

 

"I have had my suspicions about the two Lions, and I assume you have already been notified by their government."

 

Hanover's face sagged, "You are sharp."

 

"I did not get to my position by being an idiot, and I seriously dislike being treated as one by an agent of the CED who thinks he knows all and is far over his head."

 

"Ouch. Your brain ain't the only thing that's sharp ma'am. That tongue can draw blood pretty well too."

 

"Enough with the pleasantries. I have made my offer. If you try to capture or kill her in any other way, you will probably not live to regret it. She is that good."

 

Hanover was quiet and thinking, then finally he spoke. "All right then. You got yerself a deal. I'll set up the PA for ya. One last question though. Is she part of some State special project?"

 

"Oh no she is not one of the Red Star's. She is closer to being one of yours I gather."

 

"Really? Oh dear, I wonder who the hecks bunions I'm squashin' now...I'll get that microphone for ya."

 

Hanover left the room, not noticing the gold coin that floated close to the floor, right behind his heel, before sliding up the doorframe and wedging itself in the lock. All the other materials in this room had been telekinetically resistant. Natasha was up and moving scooping up the chair with one hand as she pulled the door open and entangled its legs with the arm of one of the surprised guards outside.

Hanover had given in far too easily to her demands, so she expected them to be completely ignored. She wasn't sure how far she could trust Al and Ganesh's loyalties at the moment and she knew that Buffy might risk capture to 'free' them. Therefore a quick escape was the only possible course of action. While the one guard disentangled himself, Natasha called the coin back to her and fired it directly at the other guards right elbow. The pain froze his arm in mid pistol draw and she roundhouse kicked him in the side of the head before returning to engage the first guard.

Her tried to draw as well so she simply slipped her arm between his arm and his body and performed a rolling shoulder throw which impacted him into the other guards stumbling form. Hanover was just beginning to turn to face her by the time both stunned bodies hit the floor.

"Oh shitfire!" was all he got out before she had tackled him and relieved him of his pistol.

 

"Well now. It time to go chat on PA, correct?" she held the pistol on the dazed CED agent and he nodded. "It not like I do not trust you...No it exactly like that."

 

Hanover waved the guards back and led her down the hall to a security station.

The two guards at the station had their weapons out and ready when the door opened.

"Calm down you two," Hanover said, "Me and the lady here are just workin' out a few trust issues that's all. Now flip the switches so everybody can hear us here."

 

"You sure sir?"

 

"Course I'm sure, and I'm th'one who has his own gun jabbin' inta his side."

 

One of the guards stepped forward and flipped a switch then stepped back.

 

"Hmm," Natasha said, "I only simple soldier from backwards country, but I can read your language. It seem that this 'Test Mode'?, not want I want for general broadcast."

 

The guard looked slightly guilty.

"You fix, there no problem. You do not fix..." she poked Hanover with the gun barrel again.

 

"You heard the lady. She ain't no rube from th'sticks."

 

The same guard stepped forward and flipped three switches and a low hum was heard from a speaker in the ceiling in the hall.

"Much better," Natasha's voice echoed from the hall.

 

"Pchelka! If you can hear do not hurt them too much. They idiots but I do not think they will hurt us unless pushed. I am in security booth on...Which floor?" she looked at Hanover.

 

"Four East."

 

"Four East. Do not trust Al or Ganesh. They probably spies for Isle of Lions. I wait here for you with new friends."

 

"How long have you known old bean?" Al's voice came from right around the corner, just out of sight.

 

"From start. Kaster of your power and skills allowed to disappear along with a Ghuri? Simply not possible. You active duty still. Undercover. Why? I not know, but it about problem you mention I sure."

 

"I told you Al, she's sharp."

 

"I bloody can see that Sergeant. Natasha, may I come in?"

 

"I think no. You very good kaster. Sneaky. Without hook, I not take risk."

 

"Tasha, you down here! Al! Ganesh! What have you done to her?" Buffy's voice had turned low and threatening.

 

"Nothing Buffy! She's fine and as bloody usual, completely in control of the situation." Al sounded worried.

 

"Where is she?"

 

"In there...Oh god, is that her hook?"

 

"I just saw it on a bench and it looked lonely, so I though I had better return it to its proper owner."

 

"Pchelka! I coming out with my new friend Mister Hanover. You make sure Al does not do anything foolish?"

 

"No problem," Natasha clearly heard the cracking of knuckles. "You two have been naughty. If you behave yourselves I won't have to kick your butts."

 

"Best behavior my dear I promise," Ganesh said calmly.

 

Natasha gripped Hanover by the collar and guided him out of the security office backing slowly through the door. The moment she saw the hook in Buffy's hand she called it to her and it began its defensive rotation.

 

"Al, Ganesh, come along. We have to have serious talk. Now!" she headed back to the interrogation room still dragging Hanover.

 

 

**Mirror Image**

 

The small group was heading back to the room while being paced by several armed guards. From the opposite end of the all several more guards were backing away leaving ample space. Hanover had stopped talking and the Buffy kept looking daggers at Al while Ganesh merely looked as calm as possible. 

Suddenly a figure flanked by two guards appeared at the far end of the hall, "Sir she's here!" one of the two flankers called out.

 

"Agent Bowie!" Hanover yelled, "Get your butt over here pronto! And keep that weapon holstered. In fact all of you folks should holster or sling your weapons. We're just gonna have a little gabfest that's all. No violence. Stand down and that's an order fer God's sake!"

 

"Was not expecting such a statement from you Mister Hanover," Natasha murmured.

 

"I may be a lotta things, But I ain't no fool. You and your sidekick there tore through our security like it didn't exist. Both of you coulda been free and clear, but no. You stick around and want t'talk like adults. Talkin' is far less painful most times than fightin' I've found."

 

In the mean time the woman had moved forward. She was dressed in a black combat uniform with armor vest with the letters ETT in yellow emblazoned on its front, and had a helmet clipped to her belt. In addition she was an absolute lookalike for Buffy.

"Oh my god! It's other-me!" Buffy yelled.

 

Agent Bowie froze, "What's going on here? I'm called off one hostage situation to another hostage-ish situation in which evil-me with a really bad hairdo is one of the participants?"

 

"Evil-me? Who you calling evil? Do you see a beard or a scar....Oh yeah. Anyway, I'm not evil! You're the one working for the Initiative!"

 

"The what? What is crazy evil-me talking about?" Agent Bowie was starting to move forward as was Buffy.

 

"Ladies!" Natasha yelled. "We will talk about this in room there. Go now. Pchelka, do what you did before your escape as soon as you enter. We do not want extra ears or eyes." Buffy nodded and jogged in.

 

"It's clear," she called back. "I don't see the glows anymore."

 

"Excellent. Mister Hanover and I will enter last. Rest of you, go in now."

 

Soon all six were in the room. Buffy and Agent Bowie on opposite sides glaring at each other, Hanover and Al were seated, and Ganesh leaning against the far wall from the door which Natasha was standing in front of.

"Agent Bowie, you have first name?"

 

The other short woman looked at Hanover who nodded resignedly, "Diane."

 

"And what does 'ETT' on uniform stand for?"

 

"Emergency Tactical Team."

 

"And Emergency Tactical Team does what?"

 

"Hostage rescue, counter-terrorist operations. Things that require heavy combat for the CBI."

 

Buffy raised her hand, "Did you have a guidance counselor that told you you'd have a job in a law-enforcement thingy on career day?"

 

"Yup, how did you know? I mean, aren't you like evil and not supposed to have anything to do with law enforcement?"

 

Al rolled his eyes, "They both destroy the language."

 

"Pipedown Mister Lying McLiarface," Buffy said, "Me and myself are having a discussion."

 

Hanover looked up at Natasha, "There is a reason for this?"

 

"Look at those two. Even twins have some differences in speech and gesture..." the ex-Fleet Trooper pointed out.

 

Hanover looked at the two almost identical women, Buffy had the scar and patch, while Diane was considerably more muscular in appearance, but their cadence of dialogue, intonation, even the gesticulation of their hands to make a point was identical.

"How?"

 

"We truly do not know. Let us simply say that Buffy there," she pointed, "comes from a long way away."

 

"Buffy? Evil-me is named Buffy? How can this possibly get any worse?" Diane exploded.

 

"At least I have a distinctive non-run of mill-ish name. I think it's elegant."

 

"Well at least it's more elegant than your hair."

 

"Hey! It's still doing the growing back thing. It's not my fault that being so close to whatever happened burned it off!"

 

"Burned? Is that what happened to..." Diane gestured at her cheek.

 

"Yup. If it wasn't for Tasha there, I would have been an ex-Buffy for good."

 

"See Mister Hanover, they same person but different. Ganesh, you see truth. Can you tell?" Natasha asked.

 

The Ghuri took a close look at both of them, and their chatter stopped when they realized they were under scrutiny.

"There are very insignificant differences, but these two are far more similar than twin sisters. Their spirits are almost identical."

 

"So I am her?"

 

"And she is me?"

 

Ganesh shrugged, "Obviously you are different people. I have never seen the like before."

 

Al looked over at Buffy, "Are you from the bloody spirit realms?"

 

"No, I am not a ghost! Die a couple of times and people start thinking you're a revenant all of a sudden. I may be possibly from another dimension and got blown to this one while closing a disruption in the pattern of the sanity of the universe, but I am not dead!"

 

There was a pause.

"Oh...Did I say that all out loud? I have never been any good at secret identity stuff. Not like you two clowns," She glared at Al and Ganesh. 

 

Ganesh hooked a thumb at Al, "Blame him, he's the officer."

 

Hanover and Diane looked shellshocked, while Al looked curious and incensed, and Ganesh looked mostly amused.

"You...died a couple of times? Me too," Diane finally said.

 

"How?" was Buffy's response "And how did you get back?"

 

"First time I was mugged and suffocated when I was in high school. A passerby revived me. Second time was trying to stop a hostage taker a few years ago. Got knocked off a building. Fortunately there was a Bureau Surgical Sorcerer there, but I was out of order for a few months while I healed though. Basically in a coma-ish thing."

 

"I was drowned and a friend gave me CPR as well, and I jumped off a building to save my...somebody's life. My best friend is sort of a Surgical Sorcerer I guess. She brought me back after four months," Buffy said.

 

"Brought you back?" Hanover spoke up, "You mean your spirit was out of your body for four months and then called back and rejoined?"

 

"Yeah, I guess so. Only because supernatural forces were involved though"

 

"That's impossible."

 

Buffy waved a hand to quiet him, "Different dimensions means different rules. As far as I can tell this world basically passes the shrimp test."

 

"Shrimp test?" Al asked.

 

Buffy glared at him, "I don't think I should talk to Mister Pants on fire."

 

"Nevermind Buffy," Diane said. "If he's a spy they all act like that. People I know in CED would rather die than admit they are in the CED, even if they are just paperwork people. Mister Hanover there is one of those, I can tell."

 

Hanover surprised Natasha by laughing, "Guilty as charged I'm afraid. Director Aaron Hanover, CED Special Operations at y'all's service. So now we all know why these two are so similar and neither one is evil, why don't y'all tell me what the heck was happening in the Red Star that got Third Department in such a tizzy. Captain Brooks-Wilde, I have the authority t'make you go first. Operational code three-Foxtrot-Romeo-niner-delta."

 

"Well I guess I had better start old bean..."

 

 

**Partnership**

 

"Well now," Al began, "I suppose you know Lord Collins, Mister Hanover?"

 

"Y'all know I do. How else could I have gotten that code if I didn't?"

 

"For the others assembled, Lord Collins is the Isle of Lions version of Mister Hanover here."

 

"He Lions' spymaster?" Natasha asked.

 

"Not precisely my dear, more so a professional busybody. His sphere of responsibility is when things happen that positively make no bloody sense to anybody. Lord Collins' department is called in to clear up the haze and make sense appear.

 

"He has a very small staff and is permitted to recruit from wherever he desires for any specific operation or series of operations."

 

"Such as Commandos?"

 

"Exactly Natasha. My associate Sergeant Rawat and I were seconded to 'Ancillary Determinations' as his department is called, to perform information gathering on Third Department. I was suitably listed as a deserter and dropped from the Commandos' Roll of Honor. Embarrassed the bloody hell out of my father and my brothers which to my view was an added bonus, but I digress. So Ganesh and I began our happy career as soldiers of fortune in the blasted wastelands of the world. This was five years ago.

"We have fought all across Suden and the nasty underbelly of Lydia wherever someone would hire us. Very unpleasant business most of the time, but we had to make sure our cover was truly secure. Eventually certain individuals in the Red Star started noticing our work record and asked if we would do a spot of work for them. Of course we said yes. Then another individual asked us nicely and we said yes to that as well. And so we started getting steady work.

"All well and good, but it really wasn't getting us much progress. Most of the odd jobs we performed for the Red Star were against other bureaucrats or military politicians in the Red Star. Sort of an inter-departmental squabble gone vicious for the most part. Then about two months ago we get word that someone would like to hire us for a small bit of work in the State itself. All we had to do is get to Tochoi-Temtsegech and wait in a certain bar and we would be contacted. After an interesting journey, we arrived and a short gentleman with the most appalling halitosis ever recorded met us at the agreed upon location.

"He said that he needed some work done and that there might be Third Department interference. We naturally said you must be barking mad and turned to go, but he was very insistent and very eager to part with some gold to at least listen. To keep our cover we said yes we'd listen but we would make no guarantees, as we surely would not like to interfere with the terrible Third Department's operations. It's just not safe you know?

 

Ganesh rolled his eyes.

 

Al gave him a dirty look and continued, "Anyway, He spun a tale of a place in Nokgorka that the Third was very keen on getting to, but they had no idea of its whereabouts. He wanted us to go there and recover some files that had been concealed that would be very useful to certain others in the Kommassariat. Probably as bargaining chips with the Third. He was authorized to pay us six pounds of gold for their recovery. Of course we being greedy mercenaries said yes of course. Now the pair of us had to find a way to cross the Red Star and get to the heart of a bloody damn warzone without papers. Find a concealed facility, enter it, and recover documents without the Third Department or the rest of the Kommassariat catching on. We decided to take some time to thin,k and lo and behold these two lovelies appeared saying that they were here to help, while I was contemplating..."

 

"Sleeping..."

 

Contemplating...our next move. And that is the story in a nutshell." Al finished with another glare at Ganesh.

 

Hanover looked at the ceiling for a second, "Alright, we picked up a signal from Kommassariat HQ that there was somethin' real interestin' goin' on by th'Khyiteerian border. So we orbited one o'our Scry-Eyes overhead. Once we got a fix on the weird energies that were happenin' at that train station. I authorized a trans-continental Jumpgate and we snagged the fleein' participants...That would be you of course. Since then th'Kommissariat has been sendin' out all sorts of messages wonderin' what th'heck happened. Especially since th'station burned t'the ground with no survivors. Y'all didn't do that did you? I mean, it don't really seem like y'all's style and all, but I gotta ask you know."

The two Lions, Buffy, and Natasha all shook their heads no.

 

"Didn't think so, but a man's gotta ask sometimes. Anyway, we jumped y'all here and started askin' questions and now look where we're at."

 

"Where are we at anyway?" Buffy asked.

 

"Oh that's right, you're not from around these parts. Welcome to the WTA. Home of Transnationalism. Strictly speaking we're just outside Desmond V.P."

 

"V.P.?"

 

"Verrucci Partition. Right on the east coast."

 

"Gotcha, so now what?"

 

"So now what? Well obviously it seems that Lord Collins, you and Miss Plekhanova, and I all want the same thing. To solve this little ol'problem of gettin' to Nokgorka in one piece."

 

Natasha looked over at Hanover curiously, "You want us to get to Nokgorka. In return you get Third Department information."

 

"As I said. I do th'same kinda job Lord Collins does."

 

"So Mister Hanover, how do you propose we get there?" the tall woman asked.

 

"Can't use a Jumpgate t'get y'all in. How many infokasters do y'think the Red Fleet has around that warzone? Let alone spottin' unauthorized gate appearances anywhere in the State's boundaries is a high priority. Y'all are gonna have t'go in overland. And from outside th'Lands of the Red Star and its satraps."

 

"The Byzant Commonwealth might work actually," mused Al, "All sorts of unsavoury types flow through there. The four of us wouldn't cause a ripple."

 

"My feelings exactly Captain and it ain't four of y'all that's goin'. It's five. Agent Bowie, you're currently attached to th'CED for th'duration of this operation. Captain Brooks-Wilde, you really think that th'WTA wouldn't stay out of this kind of stupid or risky a mission?"

 

Diane looked shocked, "Are telling me you just Poof! made me a secret agent?"

 

" 'Fraid so. My ability with bureaucracy kasts is unmatched, but don't worry none, this crew seems pretty competent. So dinner and some sleep and we'll get y'all on your way in th'mornin'. Alright then?"

 

"That it?" Natasha asked, "It that simple?"

 

"Flexibility in thinkin' is my watchword. Dinner?"

 

"One more quick question Mister Hanover," Buffy asked.

 

"Go ahead there."

 

"Is that your real accent?"

 

"Well now missy, that would b'tellin' wouldn't it?" with that the Director of Special Operations of the CED rose from his chair and walked to the door then turned to face the short scarred woman, "Tell y'what. I'll tell you if'n you tell me how you keep killing our surveillance protocols in here."

 

"Guess we're both doomed to unanswerable questions then. You mentioned food?"

 

"Right this way. Tonight's meat loaf night at the cafeteria. I'd say y'all lucked out."

 

 

**Comparison**

 

"Diane?" Natasha called over to the agent, "May I speak to you?" the group was walking down the hall towards, apparently, food.

 

"Sure. Natasha right?"

 

"Da, your counterpart calls me Tasha. You may use that as well."

 

"Cool," she looked at the hook that floated beside Natasha's arm, "Never met a Fleet Troopey before."

 

"That's Trooper, other-me. Jeez, can't even get a simple word like that rightish."

 

"Hey evil-me. Who's world is this? Oh that's right, mine!"

 

"Hey!"

 

"Buffy, Diane! Do you need separation?"

 

"No Tasha."

 

"I'll behave Tasha."

 

"Good. Now Diane. What skills do you have?"

 

"Sure. Uhm, qualified expert with service pistol, sub-machine gun, and shotgun. Close quarters battle, door breaching, unarmed combat, rappelling, verti operations, lockpicking, surveillance, shadowing, investigation. The usual agenty stuff. I speak some Varan and very good Aragon, also okay-ish Gallia. Oh, and my degree is in Great Continental history."

 

"Any kast ability?" Natasha was genuinely curious.

 

"Oh no, I'm a null."

 

"What's a null other-me?"

 

"Complete lack of sorce-atude. I can't even use invested protocol gear evil-me."

 

A light flickered on in Natasha's head, "That means you can use combat composites without chance of feedback!"

 

"Well duh! I mean I would be evil-me's size and build if I couldn't."

 

"What! There is just no way I'm making height cracks about myself! And what's invested protocol? Like enchanted objects?"

 

"Well in a fairytale world, yes. Only in the real world, you use precision industrial sorcery instead of finding mythical witches and convenient bubbling cauldrons," Diane answered.

 

"So what's this compost you're talking about?"

 

"Composites...And you got upset about troopey..."

 

"Focus other-me, com-pos-its. What are they?"

 

"Well, this..." Diane pushed up her sleeve to reveal a faint row of lights under her skin. "Composite spirit combination. PHE augmented muscular and skeletal implants. Kind of insanely difficult to do the make-age of, but the really hard part is getting the combining thing working. That takes a complete lack of sorcery potential otherwise you run the risk of feedback."

 

"And feedback is of the bad?"

 

"Feedback is so not of the good it's scary. That's why they usually do the putting in people like me."

 

"So what's PHE? I heard Mister McLiarface mention it before."

 

"Post Human Energy," Diane responded

 

"Eww, sounds like batteries powered by dead guys," Buffy grimaced.

 

"Yup, just like it sounds. It's really no big, I mean they're not much with the need for their energy anymore are they?"

 

'And we're here!" Hanover said loudly, opening a set of double doors and breaking off the cracked-mirror image's conversation. Inside was a large room and the smell of food. 

 

"I don't care if this is a trap. I'll walk in just to get the taste of Red Fleet field snacks out of my taste buds," with that Buffy headed for the line and started loading up a tray. She was followed by Diane and Natasha. Al and Ganesh hung back a bit.

 

"Awfully trusting aren't you, old bean?"

 

"Captain I saw th'report you filed yesterday with Lord Collins. I think those two that found you have a lot more juice than I do. Now eat up. We got to get you folks your gear back and get you some rest. You may not have a whole lotta time for that in th'future."

 

Buffy smiled and didn't say a word, just loaded up more salad.

 

Hanover excused himself and the five found a relatively private table.

 

"So other-me, how strong does that composite thingy make you?"

 

"I can lift a quarter of a ton and punch through a cinder block wall. It also does a pretty good job at bullet stopping."

 

"I've been shot. It does truly suck." Al, Ganesh, and Natasha all nodded in agreement. "So, you want to arm-wrestle?" Buffy looked as innocent as her one eye would allow her.

 

"Are you being serious? I could break your arm by accident evil-me. And even if you are evil it wouldn't do much with mission help-age."

 

Natasha turned away so Diane couldn't see her struggling not to smile. Ganesh was studiously looking at the ceiling and Al was saying...

 

"I'm bloody sure Agent Bowie, that she doesn't truly understand how much power those things can put out. Just give her a little taste. She is pretty fit for her size."

 

Diane put her elbow on the table and Buffy linked her hand. Then cautiously Diane started putting on the pressure. The top of the table started to bow from the strain and as Diane realized with amazement, Buffy's arm was only slowly moving towards the table horizontal. She increased the force gradually until she had pinned Buffy's arm..

"That was totally amazing. Do you know how strong you are?"

 

"I have a better than good idea," Buffy replied.

 

"I can completely see how you can hang with total bad-asses like Majesty Commandos and Shock Troopers now. How did you get so strong?"

 

"I really don't know all the hows and whys and whos. Just that one day I was chosen, and my life has never been the same since."

 

"Can a lot of people do what you do?"

 

"Used to be of the no, other-me. Now, I think so. In fact, I really hope so."

 

"So what weapons do you use?"

 

"I can use pretty much anything. Usually knives, swords, and axes...Oh and pointy sticks. I use them a lot. I'm also great with crossbows and pretty much anything thrown."

 

"No guns?"

 

"No. I usually don't need them or they wouldn't be useful against the people I'm fighting. Also a good friend was shot and killed and well...I just don't like them."

 

"Okay. Everybody needs to make their own choice."

 

They finished their meals along with some more meaningless chatter and a guard led the five to quarters. Natasha and Buffy were sharing a room. All their gear was piled on the beds. Buffy briefly lifted her patch and looked at the four corners of the room.

 

"Tah dah, no spying eyes."

 

"So that how you did it. I suspected."

 

"I think Baba Yaga likes her privacy and wants to stay out of this as much as possible. I mean they didn't notice my sword."

 

"Or pouch of gold..."

 

"Nifty."

 

"Pchelka, you let her win?"

 

"Of course. I can lift about half a ton and bend an I-Beam. Not as good at the bullet stoppage part. I really didn't want to make her feel bad though. I mean, she's me. I can tell she's really me if I was from here."

 

"So what do you think of her?"

 

"She's been well trained and with that compost she has, she can probably hit scary hard. Plus if it will stop bullet-ish injury, it will probably do a pretty good job on cutty and slashy weapons too. Especially if she doesn't have to worry about bone breakage hitting really hard things."

 

"You actually have to worry about that?"

 

"Sure. I could probably bend steel if I did the punchy thing to it. But my hands would not be loving me and I would need a serious manicure afterwards. I am not indestructible. Just destruction resistant."

 

"You going to trust Al?"

 

"I trust him already. I won't stop with the liar stuff though until he apologizes."

 

"What?"

 

"He is a guy duh? It's always the guy's job to apologize. It's in the rules no matter what dimension you're in."

 

"I see?"

 

"Good. Anyway, I hope tomorrow is as full of the interesting as today was. Night Tasha."

 

"Good night Pchelka," Natasha turned off the light and wondered what had happened to her orderly and lonely existence as she fell asleep.

 

 

**Breakfast**

 

Natasha woke to Buffy complaining of the unfairness of multiple timezones and their effect on sleeping patterns. "Stupid circadians!" finished her tirade.

Natasha felt well rested. She had needed the sleep because of the concentration required to the hook to its full potential. She felt that she could sleep a little for but decided to get up before Buffy monopolized the bathroom. Natasha was surprised at herself for after over a decade of doing without, she had quickly returned to her old fondness of hot showers. Glancing over at the ball of annoyed mumbling blankets and sheets on the other bed, she shook her head bemusedly and wondered again how this whole situation had gotten her so involved.

Rising and heading to the attached bathroom, she turned on the shower and waited for it to warm up, while she stripped off her panties and the plain t-shirt she had been sleeping in. Glancing in the mirror she thought she certainly didn't look like a woman in her early-forties. Her hair was still dark black without a trace of gray, and her body was well-toned after the constant strenuous exercise she performed out in her wasteland cabin simply performing day to day tasks, as well as the regular hiking and skiing of her trap lines. 

Looking in the mirror she saw she still had the smooth skin she had inherited from her mother with only small traces of wrinkles at the very corners of her eyes. She had also inherited the high sharp cheekbones and thin, almost razor-like jaw from her mother who had once described herself and her daughter as having faces "constructed with a straightedge" in a joking tone. Natasha's eyes came from her father, large and dark brown. He was also a big man, well over six feet tall and broad across the shoulders. When Natasha was a young girl, she thought that she would be taking after her petite and delicate mother in build, but the dawning of puberty showed her to be her father's girl.

The bathroom was filling with steam so she stopped her bodily assessment and entered the shower, the hot water unraveling the last of her stress. She may die within a few days, but for now, she could at least enjoy this.

When she exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel she almost tripped over Buffy who was in the process of doing her morning stretches.

 

"Sorry I woke you Tasha," the smaller woman said apologetically as she performed a completely vertical side split. Her head pressed against her knee. Natasha shook her head in amazement again that such a small package could contain such power.

 

"It fine Pchelka," she reached over and mussed Buffy's regrowing hair. "I needed my shower. Otherwise I would become grumpy as bear."

 

"Hey I felt that! I've got real amounts of hair again?"

 

"Da. Not much, maybe two inches? It growing faster now than week ago."

 

"Go go slayer follicles!" Buffy bounced into the bathroom to check out the condition of her scalp, "Woo-hoo!"

 

"I glad that you happy."

 

"Hey the simple things can give the most reward. My mom told me that."

 

"Wise woman."

 

"Well yeah, she was my mom."

 

"What does she do?"

 

"She died two years ago. Before that she owned an art gallery and raised me and my sister."

 

"I sorry. I not..."

 

"It's okay Tasha. I can talk about her now. There was awhile though..."

 

"Is your father dead?"

 

"Not that I know of, he split from my mom about seven years ago. Ended up running off with his secretary."

 

"I sorry for that too."

 

"Not your fault, so don't make with the apologies...I wonder if other-me's mom is alive?" Buffy looked thoughtful.

 

"What about your sister?"

 

"Dawn? Oh she should be okay. My best friends in all that world are with her. She's a few years younger than me and a heck of a lot smarter and taller and prettier and worst of all, she knows it."

 

"You lucky to have sister. I have no others in my family. And as I have said, I have not seen my parents in a long time."

 

"Family isn't just blood Tasha," Buffy walked over and gave her friend a hug. "You've got me now."

 

Natasha gave her friend a hug back, "Thank you Buffy. Thank you for friendship."

 

"No problem Tasha," the short woman let go, "Now I have to shower and hopefully someone left some hot water for me..."

 

Natasha toweled her hair dry and methodically got dressed, before sitting on her bed and spending an additional few moments making sure her hunting rifle and Trooper armor were in good order before stowing them back in her pack.

Buffy had been getting changed while she was inspecting the armor, "Is that the stuff you wore when you were in the Fleet."

 

"Da. It saved my life several times," Natasha packed the helmet away and inspected the straps on the chest and back carapace. As they looked fine, they disappeared into the pack as well but she kept the under-vest out and slipped it on over her telnyashkakh.

 

"Body armor?"

 

"Possibly good idea. It not very obvious under coat. I not bulletproof or fast like lightning to dodge bullets."

 

"Makes sense," Buffy had her paired knives out and vanished them with that shrugging gesture she used, before slipping the cylinder sword into her pocket.

 

Natasha clipped her collapsed hook to the carrypoint on her vest's side and pulled on her long coat before scooping up her pack, "Ready?"

 

Buffy had put her own jacket on and retrieved her pack as well, "Ready!"

 

The pair walked out into the hall where a guard saluted, "Follow me ladies."

 

They were led back to the cafeteria where Diane and Al were having breakfast. 

"Good morning!" was Al's cheery greeting. Diane simply waved.

 

""Hey other-me what's good to eat?" Buffy pointedly ignored Al.

 

"The omelet is super-tasty. Where did you get those pants?"

 

"These? I got them at a black market in the Eastern Wastes. The leather breathes really well too. It was at the same place Tasha got that coat."

 

"Cool. I have to go shopping with you two sometime."

 

"Sounds good, now we must get food before Tasha starves to death."

 

Natasha felt herself being dragged up to the food line.

 

"So spill!"

 

"Shto?"

 

"Shto nothing...Shto's going on with you and Mister Pants-on-fire?"

 

"Nichego? Ya ne panimoyu. Eta pravda!" Natasha felt flustered and not sure why.

 

"I assume that means you're in denial. You honestly didn't see the way he just looked at you? Me he gets scared of and I think that's kinda cute. You, he really looks at."

 

"There nothing."

 

"Nothing?"

 

"Nichego!"

 

Oookay Miss River-in-Egypt, let's just get breakfast then," Buffy was soon happily picking out juice, toast, and an omelet with everything.

 

Soon they were seated across from the other two, Buffy facing Diane.

"Where Ganesh?" Natasha asked. That brief exchange had made her feel nervous and self-conscious about even looking at Al.

 

"Chatting with Lord Collins I believe. He's trying to get the most up to the minute intel on all the villains we might possibly run across."

 

"That really is a non-bad idea," Diane said interrupting her conversation with Buffy about fashion trends in the WTA compared to the USA.

 

"It always helps to have a research party...even if we are donut deficient," Buffy agreed.

 

"Well yes, I suppose. By the by Buffy, are you ever going to speak to me again?"

 

"I don't know, am I?"

 

"Natasha?" Al asked helplessly.

 

"It not my fault you not know rules."

 

"What rules?" Al pleaded.

 

"The ones you should have known before you went all Fibber McGee," was Buffy's response.

 

"What does that even bloody mean?"

 

"I not sure. Perhaps like Mister Pants-on-fire?"

 

"So evil-me, he lied to you a lot?"

 

"Oh yeah."

 

"And he hasn't done the sorry thing yet? I thought he was smart."

 

"He's a guy other-me, they're the same every world you go to I'm sure."

 

"Like kittens?"

 

"I don't know about that. I know some worlds have a shrimp shortage or a surplus or something though."

 

"Weird."

 

"Uh yeah."

 

"Natasha, have mercy on me. What are they talking about?"

 

"Alternate seafood realities I think. I not sure what Buffy says or means most times."

 

"Is it bloody strange that I understand a native Varan speaker better than those two?"

 

"Not with those two."

 

"Good morning Ladies, Captain!" Ganesh slid beside Natasha on the bench seat.

 

"Salvation! A rational thinker has bloody appeared!"

 

"What's he going on about?' Ganesh whispered to Natasha.

 

"How should I know? I only simple soldier."

 

Ganesh started laughing, "And the sky is bright green too?"

 

Al regained his composure over his frustration, "Report Sergeant."

 

"Right Sir. Hanover is going to gate us to the outskirts of Onka, Byzant's capital. There are enough protocols of dubious origin there it will mask our arrival from prying eyes. Then we will secure transportation and make our way across the various countries of the Central Waste. We will have no WTA specific gear to minimize our protocol trace."

 

"What about my composites and your kasts?" Diane asked.

 

"Strong Nulls suppress protocol detection anyway. Your lack of a Kiersgaard aura traps the PHE emanations under your skin," Al answered. "As for my kasts, I do have a few tricks I use that can mask me quite bloody effectively. Ganesh does as well. Buffy is undetectable along with her mysterious ability to simply demolish any surveillance protocols that annoy her, and Natasha is a telekinetic not a sorceress."

 

"So we travel discretely," Natasha asked.

 

"As long as possible. However Third Department found us before, and I am not putting down one bloody bet that they can't possibly do it again."

 

"Agent Bowie," Ganesh spoke up, "You and Miss Summers are to report to the armory."

 

Both the women's eyes lit up, Buffy quickly swallowing the last of her toast.

 

"It is near where you entered, Agent Bowie," he finished.

 

"Come on evil-me, sounds like Risen Day to me!"

 

"If that's anything like Christmas, I'm right behind you," the pair took off at a sprint.

 

"When we leave Ganesh?" the tall woman asked.

 

"As soon as possible according to Hanover. You realize of course that all of us are under absolutely no legal protection?"

 

"Yes and?" was Natasha's response.

 

"Alright then. Let us head to the exit. The death and destruction twins will join us there I believe."

 

"Bloody wonderful. Natasha, please tell me what I can do about Buffy?"

 

The three departed.

 

 

**Welcome**

 

The jumpgate opened in an alley in the rundown districts of Onka. First through were Natasha and Al, then Buffy and Diane, and finally Ganesh.

Diane was out of her black tactical gear and was wearing jeans a black sweater, and a leather trenchcoat; while Buffy had on a very good blond wig that covered most of the damaged side of her face.

"You know that way of traveling is just so cool. No waiting at the airport, no tickets, no worrying about the luggage thing..."

 

"Yes but it takes four kasters with a specialized set of protocols to do a jump this far Buffy," Ganesh replied, "Or didn't you notice the apprehensive looking individuals in the departure room?"

 

"Spoil sporty," the currently blond retorted.

 

Ganesh simply shrugged as the jumpgate closed soundlessly behind them.

 

"So Captain, where in Nokgorka are we going?" Diane asked.

 

"At least one of you is bloody talking to me."

 

"You haven't done the lying lie thing to me yet. The day is still earlyish."

 

"I simply can't win can I?" Al groaned.

 

"What's wrong? The big tough Commando can't handle one woman?"

 

"Other-me, I dated a commando-like guy for a while. He was clingy and way too insecure though. Maybe it's part of the job description?" 

 

"Was he at least cute?"

 

"Well duh!"

 

"That's a plus then."

 

"But he was all about the overprotective thing too."

 

"That sucks!'

 

"Yeah truly suck-worthy."

 

"They don't even bloody try to speak the language properly anymore."

 

Ganesh patted Al on the shoulder, "Your life is truly terrible..."

 

"That's it? That's all you're going to say in my defense? I thought you were my friend!"

 

Natasha shook her head slowly then said calmly, "Buffy, Ganesh get us some motorized transportation. Diane, you follow. Stay back, watch for others who watch. Al, can you detect protocol activity?"

 

The other three headed off and Al nodded.

 

"Good. Make sure we not in zone of activity. I provide security."

 

Al pulled a small case from his pocket and started pulling out the components he would need, "You are a bloody formidable individual Natasha Ivanovna. I do not say that to many."

 

"I appreciate compliment," she moved towards the mouth of the alley and kept watch.

 

Al sat on the alley roadbed and quickly kast. A glowing stage of light appeared in front of him and he peered at the glowing wireframe representation of the surrounding buildings.

"Status Captain," Natasha said over her shoulder, while still keeping an eye on the entrance.

 

"No protocol activity of any note. However, I'm picking up some bloody strange lack of activity about three hundred feet away. It suddenly dropped in background reading."

 

"Cause?"

 

"I would guess a bloody dampening field. Strong enough to mask a gate signature at the very least."

 

" I will check. What direction?" 

 

Al pointed, "Right behind the two story building. Be bloody careful Tasha. Buffy will tear bleeding strips of skin off me if you get into trouble."

 

"Do not worry. I would not wish angry Buffy on anybody."

 

Carefully Natasha looked at the alley walls and with a running start bounced off several corners to make it to a balcony on the second floor. From there she scrambled up a drainpipe until she was on the flat third story roof. Moving in the direction Al had pointed she made her way across two more rooftops until she was two stories above the roof of the building Al had described. Carefully stepping off, she hit the lower roof in a shoulder roll and was soon on her feet again. Peering over the edge revealed a team of eight men and women in plain clothes all carrying Hemmet-Rolfe sub-machine guns and being led by another woman in a suit with her three pet ogres. The group appeared to be waiting for something.

Then another man came around the corner, "We've spotted the Ghuri with a blond woman!"

 

The woman in charge spoke up,"Not the one with short brown hair?"

 

"It could be a wig of course Major."

 

"That makes sense, simple but effective. Ivan, you and Team One go with Pavel there. Petrov, you're with Team Two, back Ivan up if necessary and keep an eye out for that other Lion and the traitor. Karl, you're with me." The three ogres all nodded. Two going out with groups of four normal looking humans in plain clothes, while the third stayed next to the woman.

Natasha was in a quandary. She could try to warn Buffy and Ganesh, but her movement from this roof might be noticed. She could stay put until the two down below left, or she could launch an immediate attack.

In her favor she now knew how the ogres fought and how to kill them. The Major was another matter entirely. She was either a sorceress or something else from Third Department and her capabilities were a mystery. Then her mind was made up for her when gunfire erupted out by the street.

Diving head first off the building Natasha tumbled in mid-air to land feet first on the Major's face, forcing her to the ground. The ogre spun at the sudden crash as his boss was driven into a group of trash cans and refuse, and roared at the sudden intruder before swinging a massive fist.

Natasha ducked under the blow, and drove an uppercut directly into the ogre's right armpit causing a roar of pain, "You will pay for that human!"

 

"At least," thought Natasha, "It has some of the same pressure points."

 

She had not readied her hook and the ogre was not allowing her the chance to unclip it from her vest, so she grabbed a bottle with her telekinesis and smashed it across the ogre's eyes. It didn't hurt him in any appreciable way, but it allowed her to move back and ready her weapon as he shook the splinters from his eyes.

The Major was staggering to her feet, an impressive bit of endurance and resilience at the very least, but was clearly concussed so Natasha ignored her for the moment. Bringing her hook in front of her, she fired it out at full speed as a spear. The ogre had no chance of avoiding it at this close range, but managed to roll slightly so that the blade embedded itself in his meaty left bicep and stopped when it hit the bone. Then he grabbed it before Natasha could call it back.

"A gift for me? Let me return it!" he slowly advanced, his physical grip on the hook counteracting Natasha's mental one.

 

Natasha drew her long Trooper's knife from its sheath on her combat vest. Although not telekinetically neutral or protocol enhanced for sharpness like her hook, it still had a keen blade and was well balanced. She concentrated on her hook calling it towards her. The ogre struggled to maintain his grip and continued to advance as she retreated, finally she stopped and lunged forward into a roll, sending her hook away as hard as possible. The hard metal shaft spun up in the ogre's hands and smashed him in the jaw as she tumbled by him and slashed at the backs of his ankles. The ogre turned and roared in pain and then there was a quite audible pop as a half cut through tendon gave way. 

Now limping and bleeding, her opponent dropped into a defensive crouch, still hanging on to Natasha's hook.

 

"Come and get it whore!"

 

"No, I think you should surrender."

 

"Why is that?"

 

"Because you will die if you don't."

 

The ogre began to chuckle, "You're crazy" he growled. "But I'm sure your sweetbreads taste the same."

 

"Spoken like a true Internationalist. Consumption of the people by the State."

 

"You speak of the state, traitor?"

 

"Not to the Motherland, merely the thugs running it."

 

There was a groan from the woman Natasha had driven into the refuse, The ex-Trooper knew she had to deal with the ogre before any of the others of their team returned.

 

"So ogre, who is she?"

 

"Not as powerful as she thinks she is obviously," the ogre shook his head mock-sadly. "A pity."

 

"Well Imbohl will be disappointed that his minions have failed."

 

"Imbohl? You think we serve Imbohl? I'm very lucky my Master did not not hear that. There would not be enough of you left to make a small meal."

 

"Interesting. Well this conversation has gone on long enough," stepping back she threw her knife at the ogre's chest, and at the last moment changed its aim to go straight into his wide ugly mouth. As he stumbled back choking on his own foul blood, she casually called her hook back to her.

"As you can you see. Not surrendering is fatal," moving up she impaled the ogre in the chest, then turned to face the woman. She was smeared with filth and her expensive suit was torn and there were faint puffs of black vapor leaving her mouth every time she exhaled.

 

The woman gave a wracking cough and looked up at Natasha. "Impressive. Very few have killed one let alone two," she looked as if was was about to say more but was interrupted by a coughing fit, black smoke streaming from her mouth.

After the fit subsided she continued, "We do not know exactly how you became involved human, but you and your friends have now become targets of forces you cannot begin to comprehend. If you plead for your life now, you may be spared."

 

"I extend the same offer to you."

 

"Oh you can't kill me, perhaps my host but not one such as I."

 

"I think I'll try anyway," and with a quick move of the hook, the woman was soon laying on the ground without her head. The black smoke continued to pour from her neck for a few seconds then faded away without a trace. 

 

Quickly searching the bodies Natasha found money and identification for Third Department, but with only pictures, no names, along with a a component case on the woman. 

Retrieving her knife from the ogre's mouth, she wiped both her weapons clean on his cheap suit jacket and stowed them for traveling. Then it was back up to the rooftops towards the continuing gun battle to see what was happening.

 

 

**Welcome 2**

 

From her location back atop the roofs, Natasha had very little problem tracking the sounds of the firefight. What she saw below was a market square with most of the clientele running for their lives.

"This is not very subtle," she thought to herself and sighed in resignation.

That battlefield below was divided into three rough groups. To her left was Diane, who was wielding a sub-machinegun from behind the cover of a low stone wall. In the center directly ahead of Natasha's position were six of the Third Departments agents along with the prone body of an ogre, they were exchanging fire with Diane. To her right was Ganesh in melee with the last of the ogres. Buffy was nowhere in sight.

Natasha dropped down to an awning one story below her perch, and then rolled off of it to the ground. She had her hook out and spinning as she charged the group of six. A pair of the agents spotted her and immediately changed their target. Bullets spattered off her weapon's defensive rotation, but the quantity of fire was so intense she felt at least one bullet possibly two hit her in the vest and knock the wind out of her. She plowed into the ground, unable to keep standing as she gasped for air and ended up prone behind a falafel cart.

Bullets chewed away at her concealment, not even slowed by the light wooden panels and cheap angle metal frame. Natasha called her hook down and close to her, stopping its rotation. She then hugged the ground, and still clawing for breath, low crawled away from the cart using debris to conceal her passage away. 

The two agents continued to fire on the cart until finally one of the rounds ruptured its propane tank. The leaking fuel gas, ignited by the still burning pilot light, erupted in a huge ball of flame not twenty feet beyond Natasha's prone body. Fortunately for the tall woman, the rising qualities of the gas kept the fireball's lowest point a good two feet above her horizontal form, but the shockwave deafened and pushed her like a leaf on the wind.

The fire in her direction then slackened as the agents, assuming that their target was dealt with , returned to firing upon Diane. Natasha lay on the ground not moving, simply gulping for air. Her ears still ringing from the close proximity blast. She was covered with fragments of smoldering plywood and ground chickpeas and was sure she smelled strongly of tahini.

Shaking her head slowly to clear some of the ringing, she blinked the dust and grit out of her eyes and began moving forward, still in a crawl. Eventually she bumped up against a small box chassis hauler and rose to her knees.

"Stupid old woman!" she thought to herself. "Getting cocky will get you killed. They may not be Fleet or STRIFE armored WTA troops. But they still have guns and know how to use them."

 

She quickly checked her condition. There were two impact marks on her vest right above her left lung. She coughed up some phlegm and spit, checking the color. Clear, no blood visible. "Good," she thought. She then quickly poked inside her ears and her nose to check for blood trace as well. Also negative. The ringing in her ears was starting to fade. That was good news for her too.

Picking up her hook in her hand, she duckwalked to the end of the hauler's body, and lying prone peered underneath to get a view of the opposition. They were down to five, apparently Diane had scored a successful hit while Natasha was evading. The amount of ammunition per magazine they were firing was exceptional which more than likely meant protocol expanded capacity.

Natasha grinned ferally then sent her hook twenty feet into the air before plunging it straight down on one of the agent's heads. It was much more difficult to aim an attack while located at a distance from its point of origin. However this was a technique that had proved useful to Shock Troopers past and present so it was heavily trained.

She still missed with the first shot, the blade glancing off the pavement. That caused her to simply propeller it horizontally at waist height, and swing its line of travel through her target. She then lifted it, still whirling, up to an altitude of twenty feet again and waited.

The firing stopped as all the agents dove for cover. The moment she saw the last one break line of sight to her position, she got up in a crouch and ran over to the other end of her improvised cover. Rolling over on her back she looked straight up at her hook and began to lower it slowly towards the agents' location.

"Do you surrender?" she yelled out.

 

"Why should we?"

 

"Because you don't know where I am, but I can see you! And if I can see you..." she dipped the hook slightly.

 

"You're bluffing. The best you can do is attack blind."

 

"They have perception protocols?" she thought. This was a limited method of battlefield surveillance which merely informed the user if there was somebody that could see them other than their own people. Her hearing had cleared by this point so she called out, "Other-me! Advance! They cannot stand up!"

 

"Gotcha!" she heard called back. Natasha sat up and waited. The agents knew that somebody with weapons that could be pointed around a corner and sprayed was approaching. However the first to move and get spotted by the hook wielder would die. It was simply a matter to see who would break.

 

"Is surrender sounding better now Tovarishchi? It is acceptable to admit defeat. Especially since the Major and two of her ogres are dead," she called out to the agents.

 

First one and then another then another set of raised hands appeared above the barricade. When all six sets were raised Natasha stood up and called her hook to her hand.

"Keep an eye on them," she told Diane and she took off towards where she had seen Ganesh. On the way over she ran into the Ghuri heading towards her.

 

"You healthy?" she asked.

 

"I'm well Natasha. You do not look so good however."

 

A limousine pulled up beside the pair, uniformed driver behind the wheel and Buffy sitting next to him with one of her knives in her hand, "I got a ride Ganesh! Tasha, what happened? You smell delicious."

"Enough with the bloody chatter!" yelled Al as he came charging across the square. "A very very large jumpgate incoming! They are not even bothering to hide the bloody thing!"

 

There was a mad scramble as Ganesh, Diane, and Al piled into the roomy back seat of the luxury vehicle. Buffy waved the knife slightly at the driver and pointed towards one of the exit roads from the square. The vehicle accelerated, crashing over debris from the firefight and explosion.

"Evil-me, how did you score the happening ride?"

 

"I asked."

 

"I didn't know you spoke Byzanti," Al said.

 

"Not really," she gestured with her knife, "I've found that implied extreme and painful violence is the true form of universal communication though."

 

Diane brightened, "That really is a great philosophy."

 

"I think so. Do any of you speak Turk...Byzanti though? Deep conversation seems to be of the impaired with my universal language I'm afraid. Like specific directions and stuff."

 

Natasha checked the compass inset into the side of her hook," Tell him go that way. It East."

 

"Gotcha Tasha, east it is hang on!" with a point and a threatening glance the limousine sped east, deeper into Byzant.

 

 

**Nautical Times**

 

It wasn't till they had gotten at least a mile away from the firefight that Natasha allowed herself to actually relax a little.

 

"Where did you find this vehicle Pchelka?"

 

"Pchelka?"

 

"It means bee other-me."

 

"Oh, cool. You know, I look really awesome as a blonde?"

 

"Yeah, it is a good look for us."

 

"Pchelka..."

 

"Oh right. Car gaining thing explanation activate! Well Ganesh and I went looking for a sweet ride or any ride really when all of a sudden we get mobbed by idiots with guns. I totally ruin one of the ogre guy's day by breaking him in half, while Ganesh takes on the other ogre, and other-me starts shooting the crap out of the goons. Then Ganesh yells at me to get a vehicle so I take off and can't find any with keys in them. I then see this drunk guy going into this incredibly sleazy looking hotel so I jack his ride that was just pulling away and convince Mister Chauffeur guy here to do some chauffing? Is that a word?"

 

"It should be," Diane replied.

 

"Eventually that explanation will make sense to me," Natasha muttered, "But she did answer."

 

"I saw you get hit Tasha," Diane spoke up, "How bad?"

 

"What?!? You got shot!?!" Buffy spun and the driver cringed as the knife swished past his crotch. "Are you okay? Should we go back and beat some apologies out of them?"

 

"I okay Diane. Vest stopped bullets."

 

"Get your coat and vest off and let me take a look. Did you know that you smell like a really good Barhai restaurant?" Diane moved next to Natasha

 

"A food cart blew up next to me."

 

"Ahh, that's tahini not burned skin. Good to know." Diane helped her friend slip[ off her battered coat and her armor vest, then carefully rolled up her shirt.

 

"Ganesh, Al, avert eyes or face the consequences of extreme pain." Buffy snapped from the front seat. The two Lions instinctively closed their eyes. Al even going so far to cover his face with his hands.

 

Natasha's side was one large bruise. The rounds hadn't penetrated but the rapid impact at close range had left a massive pair of closely spaced welts. Diane carefully prodded the side and Natasha winced.

"Any grating or grinding?" the CBI agent asked.

The tall woman grimaced and shook her head.

"Doesn't look like anything's broken. Just bruised and painful."

 

"Khorosho. In my pack Fleet trauma kit. Get it out."

Diane rummaged and in a few seconds produced the item.

 

"Use one small dressing. It will deaden pain. Let me fight if required."

Diane nodded and soon had applied the dressing to Natasha's abused side. Then she carefully rolled down the shirt and helped her slide her vest back on. 

 

"Do you feel nauseous or dizzy Tasha?" Diane asked, "You were right by that explosion."

 

"No, just slight headache and little noise in ears that going away. I okay."

 

"Alright you two, you can open your eyes. Even you Liarpants."

 

"Buffy..." Al moaned.

 

"No complaints Mister."

 

"I'm sorry that I bloody lied to you."

 

"You are?" Buffy perked up.

 

"Yes I am, and I solemnly promise on my family name that I will not lie to you again."

 

Buffy cocked her head and looked at him, nodded, "That'll work. Thanks Al," then turned to face forward again.

 

"That's it?"

 

Natasha looked at him, "It the rules."

 

The limousine continued on until they had left the city and were driving across rural Byzant, now heading northeast. 

The roads in Byzant were quite good and they made excellent time. It was early evening when they saw the lights of the port city of Sinuwa. They had stopped once for fuel and to let Ganesh take over driving while Ayberk, the chauffeur, was wedged in the back seat between Natasha and Al.

When they had arrived at the docks, Natasha slipped him two of Baba Yaga's gold coins and let him and his limousine head back to Onka.

 

"At least that was the last bloody sort of vehicle anybody would ever expect an escape in. Now what Commander? Hotel or ship?"

 

"I see I in charge again."

 

"Well you seem to be the only one Buffy will listen to anyway," Ganesh chimed in.

 

"Hey!"

 

"Buffy and Diane. Follow us and stay hidden. We go look for boat."

 

There were quite a number of fishing boats at the wharves on the Cold Sea, but none of the owners looked disreputable enough for Al and Ganesh. They wanted to find a skipper that was corrupt enough to not want to talk about any of his business let alone theirs.

Buffy and Diane stayed in the shadows behind the other three. Diane was stealthy but not nearly as good as Buffy, who started giving her tips on sneakiness until her duplicate threatened to shoot her for practice. 

Finally on the end of a particularly nasty pier. Al smiled, "And here we are!"

 

"Why this one?" Natasha asked.

 

"A few reasons. First, it is in a location conveniently far from the customs house and close to a speedboat mooring. Second, you can see that the engine cover has been extended up. That's usually a sign of a larger than standard propulsion system, also there are a few more antenna than one would normally expect on a fishing boat. And lastly they have been watching us with a nightscope since we first walked on to this pier. You can see the camera mounted on the left net boom."

 

He walked up to the fishing boat and called out, "Hallo?"

 

After a few moments a gruff voice called back, "Sen ne istiyorsun?"

 

"Beg your pardon, do you speak Lion?"

 

"Sure, now what th'hell do you want fancy boy?"

 

"To hire your vessel for a private cruise," Al's tone of voice had changed; becoming more formal and precise, but with an undercurrent of upper-crust idiocy.

 

"What? This is a fishing boat fancy boy, not some tourist ship. Go away!"

 

"I'm willing to pay! I have quite a bit of dosh with me."

 

"Dosh?"

 

"Cash? Hard currency?"

 

Ganesh whispered, "He's using the 'Get them to invite the rich idiot so he can be robbed technique', he loves trying it."

 

"Does it work?" Natasha whispered back.

 

"At some level it usually does. There have been some hideous failures however."

 

"Wonderful."

 

"So," Al continued, "I have ample monies," he raised his wallet, "You have a boat," he pointed with the self same wallet. "Shall we make a deal?"

 

"One minute, gotta talk to the Captain," a door opened and closed on the darkened vessel.

 

"Buffy," Al whispered, "I'm fairly sure you can hear me. You and Diane should get aboard as quickly and as quietly as possible old bean. Be watchful, they have night vision."

 

Shortly thereafter the door opened again and a light clicked on the deck. "Permission granted to come aboard lady and gentlemen. I am Captain Amal Onder."

 

"Why thank you Captain! Might I say compared to your employee you are a breath of fresh air in civility," Al hopped down on to the boat, "Natasha my dear..." he offered his hand up to the tall woman. "Ganesh, bring our bags!"

 

"Now Captain Onder, my lovely wife and I are interested in seeing the real Byzant,. Not that touristy fluff that is simply shoved down your throats in the resorts and the grand hotels. Therefore, she proposed that we find some real Byzants. Ones that still had the blood of Constantine rushing through their veins. Where else but the northern parts and on the dangerous waters of the Cold Sea?"

Natasha thought the Captain was starting to look flattered. Mainly devious as a devil, but still flattered.

 

"I see, and how do you propose to view this real Byzant?"

 

"Well, a night cruise. To be on the water in the dark where acts of piracy and valour occured of course."

 

"How would you see anything in the dark?" the Captain quite logically asked.

 

"It is not the view, it is the sensation. On the rolling deck, the cool spray in the air, the sounds of the water and the night wind. The stars above looking down, I envy you sir for having such a fine vessel."

 

"How long would you like to go out?"

 

"Well only as long as you can tolerate us of course. You are busy men, but I can offer you enough to make up for tomorrow's catch plus quite a bit more. It's only fair."

 

"What form of payment?"

 

Natasha spoke up, "Gold," her hand dipped into her pocket and reaching into the pouch pulled out a small handful of coins.

 

Al started at this but quickly recovered, "Thank you my dear." With a stage whisper he leaned towards the Captain, "I find she is far less likely to do something foolish with our funds than I am. I would have probably offered to simply buy your boat if I had control of the purse. Silly that eh? Ganesh! Is everything aboard?"

 

"Yes Sir Albert!"

 

"So Captain Onder...Have we a deal?"

 

"Yes, yes we do," the Captain extended a hand and Al shook it enthusastically. "Sizi salaklar Tamam! Biz hasat için güvercinler ettik! Atmak için hazır olun!"

 

Several crewmembers came out on deck and the boat's surprisingly quiet motor turned over. Soon lines were released and the vessel sailed from the dock.

Al muttered, "I hope the ladies made it aboard."

 

"We did and can I say the water is disgusting?" came a whisper from over the side. Glancing down Natasha saw both Buffy and Diane clinging to the old rubber tires the boat used as bumpers. "Also it's freezing. My composites are of the good for cold, but evil-me is starting to cramp up."

 

"So we aboard and sailing. Now what my husband?" Natasha whispered. 

 

"Now Lady Natasha, we wait until they try to kill us and take our money. It's really quite simple."

 

"Why wait?"

 

Because they'll go to a place where they are sure they won't be spotted of course."

 

"Of course. Buffy is freezing to death though."

 

"They're in the water? That is not good. She has probably fifteen or so minutes of exposure till hypothermia and we were talking for at least five."

 

"She very tough."

 

"Yes well, that may stretch her time but won't stop it. Bloody hell, can you fish her out at the stern? I'll try to keep the Captain and his merry band of cutthroats entertained closer to the bow or the wheelhouse."

 

"Da, I fish her out." Al moved away and Natasha sat on the gunwale. "Diane, move her to stern."

 

"Got it Tasha, moving now-ish!"

 

The tall ex-soldat moved aft and looked down at the bubbling wake. Reaching casually inside her coat, she unclipped her hook and dangled the end in the water. Soon she felt a tug and using her telekinesis to assist, bodily hauled the pair out of the Cold Sea. Once on deck Diane dragged Buffy into the shadows of one of the large cranes used for handling nets and other cargo.

Once out of the near freezing water and shielded from the biting wind, Buffy's life expectancy had increased dramatically but she needed warmth or the chance for frostbite was still quite high.

Natasha stood up and walked towards the wheelhouse and crew's quarters. 

 

"Ay! Nereye gidiyorsun?" one of the crew called out stepping in front of her.

 

"K sozhaleniyu, ya ne ponimayu..." she muttered as she gut punched him, then chopped him across the throat before catching him as he fell. Stepping inside she stepped over to a crewman that was starting to rise from a dining table and quickly smashed his face into the the durable laminate. A second sailor was drawing a long knife so she simply punched him in his knife arm, and grabbing his other wrist, pulled him forward and down before kneeing him in the forehead.

The room cleared she stepped back to the door and waved for Diane to bring Buffy in. Soon both sodden women were wrapped in a couple of the less grimy sweaters and drinking hot tea, while Natasha watched for intruders and waited for Al's signal.

 

**a/n**

Sizi salaklar Tamam! Biz hasat için güvercinler ettik! Atmak için hazır olun! = Alright you idiots! We've pigeons for the plucking! Get ready to cast off!

Ay! Nereye gidiyorsun? = Hey! Where are you going?

K sozhaleniyu, ya ne ponimayu... = I'm sorry, I don't understand...

 

 

**Piracy**

 

"Diane, how functional?"

 

"I'm good Tasha, it's evil-me that doesn't have the composite."

 

"I'll be fine in a little bit Tasha," Buffy started to stand up but Natasha shook her head.

 

"You stay here. Get warm, watch them," she indicated the three bound crewmen. Buffy nodded ruefully.

 

"Diane, we go and get rest. No guns. Understood?"

 

"What about Al and Ganesh?"

 

"One of these three probably missed soon. Then trouble."

 

"Got it. Take care," the agent called back to her duplicate.

 

"You know it!"

 

The two women exited the cabin quietly. The old purse seiner was average for the type, being about a ninety feet long or so and with a crew of probably ten or fifteen. The first persons to be neutralized were the watchstanders. Natasha looked on as Diane, with the augmentation of her composite, casually lifted and slammed to the deck one of them one handed.

It was Natasha's turn next using a Bersk chokehold on the other sailor on the main deck. When he was unconscious she slipped over to where Diane was crouched hiding.

"You get engine room. I take wheel house," Diane moved to a below decks hatch and was soon out of sight.

 

Natasha stood and climbed the stair like ladder up to the wheelhouse where she found Al laughing and chatting with the Captain, "Enjoying the voyage my dear?" Al stepped up close and pecked her on the cheek while whispering, "The heavenly twins bloody recovered?"

 

Natasha started from the kiss then smiled and nodded. "Yes it wonderful."

 

"Your lovely wife is not a Lion? She sounds Varan," Captain Onder exclaimed.

 

"Yes, yes she is. An old noble family that got out right before the revolution with all their gold and jewels. Right stirring tale her Great-Grandfather tells. She grew up in Daneland. Isn't that right darling?" Al stepped close and stood next to her, arm round her waist familiarly.

 

"Very well," she thought, "Da my love. Very exciting the way he tells it." She slipped her arm around his waist and tried not to laugh at the expression on Ganesh's face across the room.

 

"So speaking of wealth..." Captain Onder laughed, "It is about time for payment."

 

"Oh really. And the fee?"

 

"Very small, all you have actually," he pulled a compact pistol from his pocket and the three other members of the crew in the wheelhouse drew weapons as well.

 

"A shame, we would have paid you in gold no less," Al sighed," but you had to get all bloody greedy on us."

 

Natasha couldn't pull the pistol from his hand without forcing the trigger to be pulled during the wrenching motion so she simply pressed the magazine release dropping the store of ammunition in its carrier on to the floor. The Captain looked at his weapon stupidly, as though it had suddenly sprouted wings. Right before Al kicked him full force in the crotch. He gave a weird kind of whimper and fell to the deck.

Natasha after dropping the magazine had leapt over the helmsman's chair and bodily tackled one of the other crew while Ganes had swept a third sailor's legs out from under him before bashing the poor guys head into the deck. The last member got one shot off at Al, but had rushed it and missed. Merely succeeding in shooting out one of the wheelhouse windows. Ganesh quickly leg scissored him and dragged him down, where he was soon left unconscious as well. When the four were tied up, Natasha told Al and Ganesh what she and Diane had been doing.

 

"Excellent! Ganesh, can you pilot this scow?" Al asked the wiry Ghuri.

 

"It's not too hard. I get in trouble I have people I can ask," he looked over at the bound crewmen and Captain.

 

"Right. Lady Natasha, she we finish the sweep?" he offered her an elbow.

 

"Da Sir Albert," she took it and they walked out of the wheelhouse followed by Ganesh's laughter.

 

"That was fun," Al said as they made their way to the foredeck.

 

"Not use protocols?"

 

"I'm not sure how Third found us so bloody quickly, so I'm holding off on any kasts unless it is an extreme emergency. They may have tracked us through me." He sighed, "Anyway I have other skills besides protocols."

 

"What?"

 

"Oh the usual ones of the idle rich, ballroom dance, riding to the hunt, sneering at common folk...All things a good Internationalist like yourself would detest."

 

"Somehow I believe you not truthful Mister Pantsonfire. Maybe I tell Buffy..."

 

"All right, you win! Now do you want this one or may I have him?" The sound of the shot had been masked by the wind, noise of the vessel crashing through water, and the heavy ear-flapped cap the sailor at the bow was wearing apparently. He stood scanning the water, probably looking for other ships to avoid.

Al slipped up and quickly subdued him with his own style of choke-hold.

 

"Very nice," Natasha complimented him.

 

"Thank you. My instructors at Growwen Fields would have been proud I think."

 

"How long you soldier?"

 

"Me? Oh not counting the last five, almost sixteen bloody years. Started out as a para in the Dogah Islands scuffle. And you?"

 

"Fourteen before I...left. Three as Trooper, nine as Shock Trooper, then two as Red Trooper again."

 

"I did four as a Paratroop officer and the rest in the Commandos. Say, are we giving up state secrets here?"

 

"I do not think so," the pair made their way to the crew's quarters where the saw Buffy drinking tea and balancing a large knife on her finger.

 

"You guys done yet, I'm getting bored."

 

"Ganesh is up in the wheelhouse and Diane is below decks. We're just clearing up the scraps," Al replied.

 

"Well there might be two back by the bunks... I kinda had to use the facilities and they tried to jump me."

 

"Three on deck, four in wheelhouse, five here," Natasha said out loud, "I head below decks. Al, you arrange bodies in neat pile."

 

"Precision captive bloody stacking. For this I gained a degree at Saint Archibald's?"

 

"What's your degree in Al?" Buffy asked as Natasha went out the cabin door.

 

"Art history," was the last she heard as the door swung closed. The tall woman headed down the same hatch Diane had used earlier and silently slid down the ladder. The pounding of the heavy engine echoed through the hull as she headed aft. Undogging a hatch between the fishy stink filled hold and the engine room she saw Diane prone on the floor behind some machinery. The sailor tending the engines had a RKG automatic rifle and was using an edge of the massive transmission to the propeller shafts as cover.

 

"You wounded?" she called out to the other woman.

 

"No, that weapon can turn me into a strainy thing even with composites. I got low just in time."

 

"I have him," Natasha said just as he fired a burst from his weapon at her. She pulled her hook and started up a more elliptical sort of rotation due to the confined space, before stepping out behind it.

 

The panicked sailor not expecting that sort of opponent began firing at the whirling disk and the shots splashed away from the two women. Diane rolled to the opposite side of the machinery she was hiding behind and drawing her pistol, shot him in the knee. He collapsed on to the deck yelling.

Natasha called back her hook and put it away, before going over to the sailor and wrapping his bleeding wound with his shirt.

She looked up at Diane standing next to her, "You shot him, you carry him," before she stood and walked out of the engine room.

Diane sighed in resignation and scooped up the wounded man before following the taller woman out.

 

 

**32\. Cold Comfort**

 

Eventually Al, cursing the whole time, had the bodies all in the common dining area while Buffy made suggestions on the Feng Shui of the arrangement. Natasha had looked over the engines and saw that they were new and in good condition with all the proper telltales routed up to the wheelhouse. None of the gunfire down here had done much more than scratch paint and divot bulkheads, so she headed back up to Ganesh's perch in front of the helm.

 

"Any trouble?"

 

"Not at all. Only problems I've heard of are Al's complaints. Mind watching the wheel for a little while? The course is laid in here," Ganesh pointed at a gauge on the helm. "Just keep the green line aligned with that arrowhead. I need to use the loo."

 

"Go ahead, I can handle this," she stepped up to the wheel and sat down feeling some of the tension leave her body almost immediately.

 

She had been there for perhaps ten minutes when Al entered with a pair of mugs and an insulated pot.

 

"Cuppa?"

 

Natasha nodded and gratefully accepted the strong black tea. "So where do we go now?"

 

"Glad you asked old bean," Al unrolled a chart across the helm, checked a gauge and then pointed at a location south of Sinuwa and about twenty miles out to sea. "We are here and steaming southeast at about 18 miles an hour. We need to get here somewhere on this coastline. Either on the URRS or Carolinus section," he pointed at the area in question.

 

"To get to that section we must either hug the coast along the south and east and then head north when the land does. This has the advantage of safety as if a winter storm blows up we have a bloody good chance of making landfall and not sinking. 

 

"The other way is to say damn it all and cut straight across. This is a considerably shorter trip, but is across the open sea well out of sight of land for the most part. As none of us are real sailors and it is the middle of winter, I would definitely say it was the more risky choice save for one thing."

 

"Yes?"

 

"We can be fairly sure that Third has at least identified three of us, I don't know how. Whatever files the Kommissariat have on you, Ganesh, and I are being perused even as we speak. I doubt they have extensive files on Diane, but being as she is composite equipped...Anyway, we know they do not have files on Buffy except what they could have gained from field reports, and in the condition most agents tend to leave the field after encountering her, I doubt they are at all accurate."

 

"You have a point I assume."

 

"Yes, well," Al cleared his throat. "They know we aren't sailors. Of course we three soldiers have small boat training and Ganesh and myself have underwater training as well."

 

"I also."

 

"You do? Of course you would! Anyway even with that training, we are not sailors. They will expect us to stick close to land because we are not sailors. I assume they have tracked us to the port and from the port to this fine ship. Now they have to find us bobbing about on a very bloody large body of water. They will I'm sure, the infokasters of the Red Star are notoriously keen on the job, but how long will it take?"

 

"Huh," Natasha was beginning to understand Al's style of analysis, and for some reason, that fact scared her slightly.

 

"Answer. Depends where they start looking."

 

"And you believe they will start close to coast and work way out?"

 

"Exactly! So we cut across starting now," he reached over and set the arrow indicator to a new setting. Almost instinctively Natasha slowly started turning the wheel to align the ships heading with the new course northeast.

 

"It look like three hundred miles or more," she noted as she glanced back over the chart and then the navigation system, "At this speed, seventeen hours?"

 

"If we bumped it up a mile or two it would drop to fifteen hours or so. As we are running basically empty and the throttles appear to be set at less than half power, I believe that moving it up to at least half would be quite advantageous. How are we on fuel, can you tell?"

 

"Fuel system like commercial tractor. Gives hours of operation left on tank and changes as throttle changes. We have nineteen hours at new speed."

 

Oh excellent. How long can you keep handling the ship? I mean you were bloody well shot up and exploded today."

 

"I good for another hour at least. Headache keep me awake."

 

"Well then, see you in an hour Lady Natasha."

 

"I waiting Sir Albert."

 

She stayed up in the chilly wheelhouse watching the heading and throttle settings and the dim blue glow of the navigation system. Finally Al and Ganesh reappeared with a large sheet of plastic screening and some tools and began plastering over the broken window to stop the frigid wind from blowing through. When they were done, Ganesh took her by the arm and gently pulled her away from the helm where Al settled in and started humming to himself.

 

"What? I have thirty more minutes!"

 

"No you don't. You were outvoted four to one. You need food and sleep and a shower. Captain's orders and Buffy and Diane agreed."

 

"I have no choice do I?"

 

"Not really Natasha."

 

Soon she was fed, clean, and lying on a moderately comfortable bunk with the thrumming of the engine putting her quickly to sleep.

She blinked at the bright light glaring through the porthole by her head. Yawning and stretching she made her way to the galley. There she saw Al and Ganesh checking their prisoner's bonds.

 

"Good morning! Did you have a good nap?" Al called out noticing her.

 

"How long?"

 

"Ten hours or so. It's nearly midday. The Sergeant and I have just finished tending to this lot's health and welfare, and the duo are up in the wheelhouse."

 

"What we do with them?" Natasha yawned and pointed at Captain Onder and his crew.

 

"Let them go I suppose. If they can clear Red Star waters and make it back to Byzant safely with the infokaster search for this vessel, it will at least give the Red Fleet something to chase. Plus, I really don't enjoy killing a man in cold blood. Sometimes it just has to be done of course, but now? I don't think so." He turned the Captain on to his back so he could look him in the eye, "And in addition I think some gold will wind up in their pockets in payment for this pleasure cruise."

 

"Da, we can do that."

 

"Excellent! Breakfast?"

 

"Da."

 

It was only bread, smoked fish and tea, but it helped Natasha feel even more human. When she was done she walked out onto the deck to look out over the brilliant gleaming water. She was standing next to a rail staring at seabirds when Al walked up next to her.

 

"So after the duo, it's Ganesh, at the helm. We should be there by that time. Now Commander, how do we get ashore without being destroyed by coastal vessels, detected by infokasters, or sunk by our own maritime incompetence?"

 

"This vessel used for smuggling yes?"

 

"More than likely."

 

"They have diving gear?"

 

"Oho! Why don't we have a look and if the look doesn't work we can have another chat with the Captain."

 

The pair searched the cabins and all the nooks and crannies of the hold before finding the hatch to a separate area of the ballast tanks. This area had been sealed quite nicely and housed storage compartments as well as weapons, ammunition, and eight sets of diving regulators. 

 

"Any suits over there?" Al asked as he searched behind cases of Daneland pornography neatly packed for transport.

 

"Only two thermals you found. There all these lightweight pieces. Enough for five maybe six suits."

 

"For a twenty mile swim? That's not good. Let's see, Ganesh and Buffy need the thermal suits, Ganesh because he's a delicate tropical butterfly and Buffy because two severe cold events right after one another is a recipe for disaster. Diane can handle the temperatures without a suit for an extended period. With even a lightweight suit, she'll be fine. That leaves us two without."

 

"We could layer pieces?"

 

"Makes it considerably harder to swim. So, how confident are you in your cold water diving skill set?"

 

"Why?"

 

"We could layer pieces on torso and head. Gut out the arms and legs."

 

"Circulation brings cooled blood back to chest from chilled legs."

 

"Good point. There must be chemical handwarmers on this boat. We could tuck them inside the torso section, break them to keep up the core temperature."

 

"Wool sweaters underneath. For insulation, and I have my jersey also."

 

"What the bloody hell! It's worth seeing if there are any heat packs at least."

 

They dragged the diving gear up to the galley and soon they were testing it and filling the tanks from the boat's compressor.

 

"Scuba diving?" Buffy asked when she saw the tanks.

 

"This Laquette regulator. Maybe same as Scuba. Here your diving suit," Natasha handed Buffy the bulky garment.

 

"Wow! We all get these too?"

 

"It salvage diver gear. Keep you warm."

 

"Where's yours?"

 

"Only found two of those. Ganesh gets other because of his age. We use these," she held up one of the lighter weight suits.

 

"That's not very thick at all. Will you be warm enough?"

 

"We fine Al and I, we both have done many cold-water dives. Diane perfect with composite and this."

 

"How far do we have to swim?"

 

"About twenty miles," Al answered entering the room, "And success, two large rag-wool sweaters and twenty hand warmers, along with gauze wrap to secure them." He set the box on the table."

 

"Twenty miles! I'm prety sure I can do that but..."

 

"People have swum the Lions' Strait hundreds of times and it's a further distance. Don't worry about us. Natasha, I'll put some chicken on to cook. we'll need the calories."

 

"Good, how long?"

 

"We should eat at least an hour or so out. Let the blood leave the core. It's going to be popping back in soon enough after all. Ganesh says we're about fifty miles from the dropoff, so eat in an hour and a half and then start prepping?"

 

Natasha nodded and continued resizing suit pieces.

 

 

**33\. The Swim**

 

Natasha had never been so cold in her life. The moment they abandoned the fishing boat and jumped in, the cold flowing through the lightweight seams felt like liquid fire attacking her.

The prep had gone well. She had stripped down to bra and panties before carefully wrapping her legs with gauze and slipping on her telnyashkakh and the rag wool sweater on top of that. Then she pulled on the rubberized dive suit pants and top before slipping on a larger size one a top of that. Next to her Al was doing the same. Diane had just slipped on the lightweight suit without the under-preparation and Ganesh and Buffy were already in their warm thermal suits.

All of them hauled the two tank back rigs and the regulator hoses and masks attached to them, they would supply air for at least fifty minutes per cylinder at the depths they would be operating at. In addition they would be pulling a net with twelve more full tanks in it as spares. They were going swim most of the way on the surface using some semi-submerged pontoons made of packing foam as resting and hauling platforms, and were only planning on diving when they were a few miles off-shore.

Then smearing grease on exposed skin and slipping on fins and the final plunge and they were off.

Concentrating on her breathing, Natasha slowly began to swim forward, her body heat slowly warming the water trapped in her suit. Once she had her arms and legs going regularly she tried not to think about the cold only the shore far ahead.

Buffy had taken on the job as mule and was singlehandedly towing the pontoons of gear and air tanks while Diane and Ganesh were swimming alongside Al and Natasha as safeties. Al was swimming with efficient powerful strokes and ice was forming on his exposed mustache. Buffy moved forward with amazing speed even with the heavy load. Diane and Ganesh swam strongly even in the slowly rolling chop.

There was a low haze over the water and clouds were moving in overhead as the day dragged on. The sun disappeared for longer and longer periods of time and Natasha could feel herself losing strength from the incessant cold.

They had discussed simply cocooning Al and Natasha and towing them behind, but the lack of muscle use would probably have chilled them even quicker. After two hours Ganesh and Diane poured sugar water into them to keep up their caloric intake while Buffy rolled on to her back and swam more slowly to rest up her arms and legs. Fortunately the lightweight suits provided enough buoyancy so they could save some energy and not have to burn it treading water. After a ten minute break they continued on. Eventually they started breaking out the heat packs and tucking them into Al's and Natasha's armpits to help warm the blood flowing back into the core as they rested. 

This two hours swim, ten minute rest segued into one and a half hour and ten, and then an hour and ten. By this time they had been in the water for over nine hours and Al and Natasha were in bad shape. Even the other three were feeling the temperature and more so the exhaustion from the energy they had expended. 

 

Finally Buffy signaled a stop, "I see lights on the shore."

 

Ganesh and Diane slipped the regulators on Al and Natasha, who were almost paralyzed by the cold and exhaustion before donning their own and snapping tow lines to drag them ashore. Buffy, with assistance, got her own regulator and tank set on, and with a sigh started hauling the now submerged pontoon towards the shore.

Two hours later they were ashore. Even though they had been slowed by by the breakers they managed to stagger up the beach and get themselves, their gear, and their two almost unconscious companions undercover behind the dunes.

While Buffy and Diane dug a cave for warmth and concealment, Ganesh scrubbed over their tracks. Soon they were ensconced with a small fire and huddled together for warmth. Unsealing their heavily wrapped packs they pulled dry clothes on, and soon had a pot of tea and reheated chicken going.

Al was the first to regain his senses.

"We bloody made it?"

 

"Amazingly yes," Buffy replied yawning. "Now I want to sleep for one or two weeks."

 

"And Natasha?"

 

"Still out, but alive. She has decent blood flow to her fingers and toes. Al, I never want to do anything like that again. Not even for King and Country"

 

"Noted Sergeant," Al yawned, "Diane, how are you doing?"

 

"Pretty good actually. Not really tired-ish. I can keep watch if you guys all want to crash. I'll wake Ganesh or Buffy when I feel like I'm starting to the noddy off thing."

 

"Sounds good old bean, just check Natasha's and my pulse every twenty minutes or so...Just in case."

 

"Gotcha Al! Pleasant dreams."

 

Natasha felt a pressure in her back. Slowly she opened her eyes, to find herself in a small cave scraped out of the sand Looking behind her she saw Diane curled up sound asleep pressed into her spine. On the other side of her was Al also asleep and then Buffy. They were covered with the survival blankets from out of their packs and a small fire burned with Ganesh crouched next to it.

She tried to get up but her arms and legs felt like rubber. "Ganesh!" She hissed, "I can not move!"

 

The Ghuri turned to face her and soon he was carefully helping her over to the side of the fire. She realized she was starving and Ganesh started handing her rations out of one of the supply packs.

"How long?" she asked as she wolfed down some bread and cheese.

 

"It has been about a day since we left the ship. You have been asleep for over twelve hours as has Al."

 

"We did succeed though?"

 

"Well yes, we are ashore in Carolinus. Congratulations on the first successful amphibious assault on the Red Star."

 

"I suppose that correct no matter how odd...Where waste pit?" other urges were coming forth now.

 

"Outside, behind the bush on the far left side of the dune. About thirty feet."

 

"Thank you," she wormed her way through the small entrance and found herself under a cloudy sky. Her sweater and telnyashkakh were inside drying, so she was wearing a simple turtleneck under her coat. As she squatted to relieve herself, she heard the sound of vehicles coming from the east and closing fast. Her hook was inside along with her knife, and in her current physical condition there was no possible way she could run back to the cave...

As quickly as possible she rose to her feet and stumbled into the middle of a dirt road that ran along this portion of the coast . Down the road she could see several shapes and vehicles. Most probably a patrol. Staggering across the road she could hear the sounds of men and vehicles clearly.

"Ganesh! Patrol coming!" she said as loudly as she dared, "Douse fire! Seal entrance!"

 

"Get back inside!" came a muffled voice.

 

"No, I think they have seen me. I will find you. Do not worry!"

 

"Be safe!" there was a thump as the sand collapsed over the entrance.

 

Natasha raised her arms above her head and waved them trying to appear as a lady in distress. As they approached she rubbed dirt on her face and clothes.

 

"Who are you?" the officer in the first vehicle to arrive called out.

 

"I was beaten and robbed then left out here. Thank Pravda you arrived!"

 

"When did this happen?"

 

"Last night. I think they left me for dead Comrade Captain. I would have been if not for your presence. I am so cold."

 

"Sergeant,"the officer called to his driver, "Get this woman a blanket. Comrade, what is your name?"

 

Natasha thought quickly, "Alexandra, Alexandra Priminova. I am from Temnyvod."

 

"Where were you attacked?"

 

She thought about the map she had viewed the day before, "Büyük Tepe, I was going to Sicak when I got on the wrong transport. As I was wandering around looking for someone who spoke Varan I was accosted by three men. They took all my money, my documents. All I have is what you see.' she opened her coat and slowly turned almost stumbling.

 

"Get in, we will get you back to Büyük Tepe and you can file a report. You're quite lucky you know Comrade, almost no one comes down here this time of year."

 

"I am counting the stars that I was lucky enough that you came along when you did," she said gritting her teeth as she climbed into the vehicle.

 

 

**34\. Trapped**

 

The patrol meandered it's way the twenty miles or so to Büyük Tepe. Arriving about a half an hour later. Natasha was bundled out of the vehicle and into the the Security Services central station. Where she was sat down in a chair and grilled about the 'attack'.

She was outwardly helpful, but inwardly worried. Her spur of the moment story would not stand up to any scrutiny at all and every moment she was here put her in severe danger. She had been searched, but the coin pouch was still in her pocket so that was something at least. On the ride over, the warmth of the vehicle heater had dispelled the last of the chill in her limbs and she had been given coffee and a sandwich when she had arrived here. Her muscles were sore, but she felt considerably better than when she had woken up.

 

As she finished giving her fictitious address she asked the female clerk where the restroom was. Rising she asked permission to use it, claiming the coffee had gone right through her. The clerk nodded sagely and agreed that was commonly the case and even handed Natasha a hairbrush to get rid of some of the snarls. Natasha smiled gratefully and headed in the indicated direction.

 

Once inside she looked at herself in the mirror, surprisingly a vision of the specter of death did stare back. Merely the face of a tired middle aged woman with tangled hair. After a few moments of attacking said tangles with the brush, she had the bathroom to herself. She quickly pulled the two one foot long wooden rods that supported the rolls of paper towels, from their sockets and tucked them in the sides of her boots. Splashing some water on her face she yawned and quickly went through some basic stretches to limber up.

 

Cautiously opening the door to the hall a crack Natasha peered out into the hall and found herself nearly face to face with an ogre, or rather face to ear. It was walking down the hallway towards the main room where she had been answering questions and it did not appear to have noticed her. She quickly and quietly closed the door and waited a few seconds before reopening it.

 

Looking towards the administrative area she saw the backs of two ogres and being led by one of the women in the suits that she had encountered twice before. She started moving carefully and casually down the hall while the conversation that would soon be playing out ran through her mind.

 

"Where is the woman?"

 

"What woman?

 

"The one that was just brought in? She would be about six foot tall, one hundred fifty pounds, dark hair, average looking."

 

"Oh her. She was found by one of the road patrols, I have her statement here."

 

"Where is she now?"

 

"She went to the restroom. You passed it on your way in..."

 

"Yes," Natasha thought, "The question wasn't if but when..."

 

She had just turned a corner of the hall to break line of sight, when the bellow erupted from behind her. Looking round she saw a mop bucket with the mop having a sturdy metal pole for a handle. It wasn't her hook, or even telekinetically neutral, but it would have to do. She reached out and called it to her hand. It responded sluggishly, weighed very little, and had no cutting surfaces, but at least it responded to her will. At least it was steel so it could take some abuse.

 

The bellow had drawn attention and several Security officers where now in the corridor, peering past where Natasha stood. She moved towards them; trying to use them for concealment, and had made it past the first two when the ogres rounded the bend.

 

"Stop her!" The lead one shouted in his guttural roar badge case held high in his massive hand, "Third Department!"

 

At the sound of that name there was a generalized rush out of the way. Natasha took the opportunity to relieve two of the security officers of their pistols as they rushed by, before joining the torrent fleeing the hall. As if by a kast, all her aches and pains were gone as adrenalin pumped through her body. 

 

"There she is!" came a bellow. She had been spotted.

 

She stopped dead and sent out the mop pole to trip the lead ogre. The durable metal shaft flexed, but did not bend or break as the three hundred pound form suddenly found it tangled up in his feet. Soon the lead ogre was lying on has face on the floor while the other was trying to avoid stumbling over his prone body.

 

Bending over, Natasha quickly pulled the two wooden dowels from her boots and stuck them one in her coat pocket. With the other she released her grip on the mop handle and transferred it to the wood; sending it out to impact the still standing ogre in the center of his forehead at as high a velocity as she could manage. It exploded into a cloud of splinters from the force of the impact and sent the ogre's head snapping back hard. When his head came forward again there were chunks of wood and white bone splinters clearly visible in the gouged out hole, but he was still on his feet though reeling and blinking in shock and pain.

 

"Need something bigger," Natasha thought as she scrambled away.

 

Now she was in the entrance way looking wildly around she called a heavy wooden bench towards her. It weighed several hundred pounds but she could handle the strain. It lifted and swung around to bear on the door she had just come though. Feeling the pounding in the floor of the onrushing ogres footsteps, she launched the bench preemptively. Smashing into the rapidly reopening entrance at the same time the lead ogre, the one she had tripped, made his appearance.

 

Unlike a less than a pound of wood dowel which she could accelerate to extreme speeds in a very short distance, the massive bench was not as responsive. Still two hundred pounds of oak moving at the speed of a fast runner impacting with three hundred pounds of ogre moving at close to the same speed was spectacular to watch. The impact cracked the hard wood and completely caved in the ogre's face and upper chest. As the ogre was more massive and the speeds were about the same, the collision continued into the entry hall as pure momentum drove it forward until the tangled wreckage of bench and behemoth were sliding to a stop at Natasha's feet.

 

The yelling in the entry hall from Security forces and civilians alike had completely died out at the sight of this amazing exhibition of carnage. It had gone completely quiet. Then the second ogre appeared in the wreckage of the doorway.

 

"Nowhere to run Trooper," it rasped blood streaming down its face from the ragged tear in its scalp. "You actually hurt me with a toothpick? Killing you is going to be so much fun."

 

"If you were smart," Natasha said, "or even of average intelligence. You might be dangerous. But since you're not, why should I run?"

 

The ogre looked puzzled, "What do you mean?"

 

"This!" Natasha called the flag of the Red Star, still attached to the traditional spear pointed flag staff, from behind the admissions desk to her and through the back of the ogre's head. The metal point bashed through the thick bone and the ogre dropped like a rock.

 

Natasha turned to leave the station when a low voice called out, "Not so fast Comrade!"

 

Looking back she saw the woman in the suit standing calmly.

 

Natasha waved at the ogre's bodies, "Have any more?"

 

"Yes, but I don't need them," black smoke started streaming from her body in thick tendrils and then suddenly solidified; impaling everyone still remaining in the entry hall through the chest or head except for Natasha.

 

The room was silent again. All had been cut down before they even had a chance to scream.

 

A smoke tendril streamed out and wrapped around Natasha's neck constricting painfully, "Come along Comrade. Someone would very much like to ask you some questions..."

**35\. Interview**

Natasha woke up in a small cell. The last thing she remembered was the smoke coil tightening and a smell of decay, then nothing. She sat up on the foam mattressed bed and looked around. The entire room was cast concrete about five feet by ten feet and ten feet high. All the fixtures; bed, toilet, sink and table and two low stools were cast into the walls and floor of the room. The ceiling was a piece of heavy glass, the vague greenish tint indicating its bulletproof qualities as well as its thickness.

 

Behind the glass were a set of lamps which were aligned to give a low uniform light to the room along with a smoked bubble which more than likely contained a camera. Above that was a metal grate and beyond that, darkness. There were no windows, but the entrance to the cell was open. In fact it looked as though it had never had a door. There was simply an opening that led out into a dark hall.

 

She got up and checked herself over. Aside from the remnants of the gunshot bruises, she appeared unharmed. She was still wearing the blue twill pants and the turtleneck as well as her Trooper boots. Her coat was laying on the small table. As expected her pockets were empty except for Baba Yaga's pouch.

 

She pulled off her boots on the pretext of massaging her feet, and used the opportunity to surreptitiously check the items tucked into the lining. They were untouched, which led her to believe she had been searched by those that had no idea how enlisted soldiers in the Red Fleet worked. Still barefoot she rose and walked to the doorway. As she approached a small red line set in the floor of the hallway began to glow. She stopped at the doorway and peered outward. The hall way was wide, about thirty feet. And illuminated solely by the very dim light that came from the cell entries that were scattered along its length. As she wondered why there was a cell block without bars and what the red line in the floor did, she heard a sizzling sound and smelled burning rotten meat.

 

Looking down she saw a trail of black sludge being burned away by the red light, and under closer scrutiny it look like the whole floor, outside of the puddles of light by the cell entries, was moving and shifting. Stepping back towards the bed, she sat down and carefully pulled on her socks and boots before leaning back, covering her head with her coat, and waiting.

 

She heard a loud mechanical clank from the hallway. Still keeping her eyes closed, she made her way to the doorway before opening them. The forced dark adaption allowed her to get a much better look at the hall. It was about a hundred feet long and she was located on one end. The ceiling was fifteen feet up and a maze of pipes and metal frameworks. The walls were smooth and matte black almost absorbing light, and when she touched them beside her cell entry, she found they felt slightly greasy but not oily.

 

The mechanical noises continued at the other end of the hall and a bright cone of light speared down on the floor. Inside this cone were two people who walked in its protective glow as the lamps were mounted on on of the overhead metal frameworks and traveled along above them. The diffuse light when it hit the matte black floor revealed hundred of twisting and wriggling tendrils trying to get out of its way. Finally the light stopped outside her cell, in the center of the hallway. In the glow was one of the smoke women as well as an ogre.

 

"Hallway for number one!" the ogre rasped loudly, and bright light flooded down from above forming a pathway to the cone from Natasha's cell. 

 

"Come along Natasha Ivanovna Plekhanova. There is someone that would like to speak to you," the smoke woman said with a smile.

 

"Do I need my coat?" Natasha asked guilelessly.

 

"No, you will be staying inside."

 

Natasha stepped through the doorway. The red line in the floor flared up but faded away as soon as she passed over it. Soon she was in the ten foot diameter cone. The ogre rasped again, "Back to entrance! Hallway for number one off!" The lighted corridor vanished and Natasha was sure she heard squishing noises filling the previously bare floor. The smoke woman looked at her expression with amusement as they began following the moving light towards the other end.

 

"As long as you stay in the light they cannot hurt you. Even as much as a toe in the shadows...well we won't be needing even as much as a lunch-pail for your coffin, Comrade Plekhanova."

 

"Thank you for the advice Comrade...?"

 

"I have no name as such Comrade."

 

"What are you?"

 

"I am a Tainye Grekh."

 

"A Secret Sin? What is that?"

 

"Think of us as mortal desire made physical."

 

"There are more of you?"

 

"Of course. How many sinners are there in this world?"

 

"And your friend here?" Natasha nodded at the ogre.

 

"Simply a manifestation of brutal urges. Nothing as refined as I. Still they are amazingly durable and yet you have killed at least four. Two without the use of that nasty hook of yours. Very impressive."

 

"She used 'At least'," Natasha thought, "Now why is that?"

 

"And you have dispersed two of my sisters, also not the simplest of tasks to accomplish."

 

"I would apologize, but I feel the sentiment would be lost," Natasha replied.

 

"Sentiment is for the weak, not for true servants of the State."

 

"Such as yourself, your sisters, and your associates," she indicated the ogre.

 

"Exactly. Ah, we are here!" they had reached the end of the hall and after walking up a well lighted set of stairs that extruded from the floor as they approached, entered into a second hall eight feet above the first. Inset into the wall was a small booth with a guard seated at a control panel that had a dozen monitors on it.

 

"There is someone always watching you and just think, he has the controls to the lights in your accommodations and orders to turn them and the barrier strip at the door off if you do something...unfortunate," the trio continued a short distance down the hall and entered a quite normal looking elevator.

 

"So what was that...guardian on the floor?" Natasha asked.

 

"I think it's a distillation of forbidden hungers. Whatever it is, it's quite mindless and very controllable. It also never sleeps and is always alert, so do not expect to simply tiptoe past its napping form."

 

"I have never dreamed of protocol manipulations like these."

 

"Neither has almost anyone else. Only the Kommissar had the vision and the drive," the smoke woman sounded almost worshipful when she said that.

 

"The Kommissar? The head of the Kommissariat?"

 

"Oh not that weakling. The Tchorny Kommissar, head of Third Department. The true power behind Imbohl." 

 

The elevator had stopped and the doors opened into a large office and library paneled in beautifully polished dark wood. It was two stories tall with the second floor consisting of a balcony filled with bookshelves. The hardwood floor was covered with rich woven rugs and the sound of a Varan opera filtered through hidden speakers. There was a large conference table with easily enough space for the twenty comfortable plush chairs arranged around it, in the center of the first level and above the table hung a magnificent crystal chandelier. At the far side of the room in front of a large window, looking out onto a snow covered plain, was a massive desk and behind that desk sat a man.

 

"She's here sir," Natasha's escort spoke up.

 

"Have her come forward. You two can wait there," the voice was that of a old man with the breaking in tone and buzz in the throat, but it was strong and clear with a slight Carolinus accent.

 

"You heard the Kommissar. Now step forward or be left in the dark."

 

Natasha walked across the room and over to the desk. The man was dressed in a somber black suit and shirt and wore smoked green glasses. He was bald and very old with wrinkles covering his round face and notching his sharp nose. He was in the process of looking over a dossier and Natasha noted with a start that it was hers.

 

"Please, sit," the Kommissar gestured at a chair across his desk from him. As Natasha sat down he picked up a small silver bell and rang it. An orderly appeared from a concealed doorway."

 

"Tea for two...Unless you wish something stronger Comrade?"

 

Natasha shook her head and the Kommissar nodded at the orderly who promptly vanished on his mission.

 

"I saw you dance you know," the old man started. "I didn't realize it until I was just rereading your dossier," he rapped his knuckles on the binder for emphasis. "You were thirteen so it must have been one of your last performances. Durovich's Queen of the Air at the National Opera House. You were magnificent, so young, so vital. Do you remember dancing that that night?"

 

"That was my last performance, and yes, I remember dancing the Queen's part. If I may ask, who you Comrade?"

 

"Ah you are asking me the questions? That is an interesting twist. Who I was does not matter, who I am is the only one who can allow you to ever see the sky and breath fresh air ever again."

 

"I am given to understand though that you are the head of the Third Department though?" Natasha pressed on.

 

"That is true. It is the means that I, in my own small way, can serve the State to the best of my ability."

 

"What is the Third Department?"

 

The orderly reappeared and began serving tee in delicate bone china cups.

 

The old man sat looking at Natasha until the orderly had finished and left and took a small sip from his own cup and waited until Natasha had done the same.

 

"You have heard the phrase, 'The stuff that dreams are made of'? Well I take it literally. Only here, we make nightmares."

**A Fairy Tale**

The old man continued to sip his tea calmly, while Natasha looked at him curiously.

 

"Well," he finally said, "At least you are not saying, 'What does that mean?' or worse yet, 'That is impossible?'. It shows great self-control."

 

"I have seen curious enough things recently, to not deny anything completely out of hand. And I presume that if you wish me to know, you will tell me. If not, you will not."

 

"Ah the iron discipline that serves a dancer well! It translated well to the Fleet did it not? You know, I have paged through many dossiers over the years, and I must say yours shows an exceptional record." He lifted the binder and bent to read.

 

"Sergeant Plekhanova is an superior leader and will be missed when she reports to Special Duties. That was from your first Captain. All of your operational reviews are written in that tone. That was one of the reasons why you were selected for direct commissioning, another being your skill on certain less than pleasant operations in the Suden and your discretion afterwards," he refilled his cup from the snowy white teapot.

 

"Then what happened? You desert mere days before a significant promotion and the power and prestige of a Defense Medal of the Motherland. Why? I ask many questions in my work and yours was a very annoying one. There seemed to be no reason for your leaving and disappearing without a trace. So I sat and read and reread this file till my eyes burned, and last night it finally came to me. 

 

"You. The perfect instrument of the State, valued the individual over the whole! You felt more loyalty to those that had died beside you in Al-Istaan than you did to our Internationalist way of life. You chose to honor the dead rather than continue to serve the country whose uniform you wore. 

 

"Simply put, you were a victim of misguided loyalty. You directed it at those that were not your betters, not even your equals instead of trusting in those that led you. Your superiors. A tragic error. However, all is not lost."

 

"What do you mean?" Natasha was horrified at the old man's attitude but genuinely curious about his goals. She desperately tried to keep her face a mask of bland neutrality.

 

"I can restore you to your rank and position quite easily. Return you to duty, Lieutenant Plekhanova...no, Captain Plekhanova sounds better. Even return you to the Shock Troopers where your skills would be admired and used as an example of perfection. All that is quite within my power."

 

"At what cost?" was Natasha's simple answer.

 

"Ah, a true member of the State breaks forth. Answer some questions for me."

 

"Very well."

 

"That simple? I am amazed. Be warned though, I have been informed that I am quite astute at determining falsehood. Prevaricate at your peril," with that he removed his glasses and stared at her with a pair of eyes that matched Buffy's good eye.

 

"The Eyes of Imbohl..." Natasha gasped.

 

"Very good Starshyna Plekhanova. So, the story I have so far is that two individuals of the Isle of Lions were involved in an altercation in Tochoi-Temtsegech, but before that I lost contact with a pair of my khoroshie sosedi. They are my...informants on various doings that involve unusual situations. They were on route to Tochoi-Temtsegech when they disappeared. I didn't find that completely unusual because they are rather fragile and accidents happen. 

 

"So then there are reports of a female hook wielder involved with that altercation in Tochoi-Temtsegech. One of considerable skill as well. I then received reports from another one of my good neighbors that on the train the previous pair had disappeared on there were traces of upiri, and indications a hook may have been involved. This got me very curious as you can possibly imagine," he sipped his tea.

 

"Who was this hook wielder? Obviously Fleet or ex-Fleet and a woman too. Even though Fleet is supposed to be unsegregated most women with talent become sorceresses, so who is this mysterious Fleet member? Now here is where it gets curious. There are reports of a tall Lion and a shorter Ghuri along with this woman, but there are also a few reports of another woman far shorter than you.

 

"However, my good neighbors report seeing no other companions with you. Very curious as I said. So my first question is, who is this companion?"

 

"I do not believe I was confirmed to be at that altercation you speak of," Natasha replied.

 

"Oh there is proof, and I will let that small slip of judgment of yours in doubting my information pass," he pushed a grainy picture of what was clearly Natasha and Al fighting the thugs in Khyiteeria across the desk to her.

 

"I see."

 

"Yes, I think you are starting to. So answer the question, who is your other companion?"

 

Natasha wondered how his spies had missed seeing Buffy or if he was simply bluffing about not knowing who her companion was, "I have no companions other than the Lions."

 

The old man stared at her with those iris less black eyes and she could feel him starting to peer into her very soul. Suddenly a patch of warmth started on her thigh. It began getting hotter and hotter until it felt like it was burning a whole in her leg. Trying to keep her face a bland mask she casually ran her hand down to the source of the heat and rubbed against Baba Yaga's pouch at the center.

 

"You are telling the truth?" he sounded surprised and the heat quickly faded. Natasha wanted to smile, to laugh, but continued to keep her face calm.

 

"Of course Comrade Kommissar. Did you not ask me to?"

 

"Very well then," the old man quickly regained his fleeting loss of composure, "We started monitoring your travels north. The recording of the meeting with the Border Guards was unfortunately corrupted, and your Lion friends apparently have some protocol means of damaging them. Why did join them anyway?"

 

"They hired me."

 

"Hired you? What do you mean?"

 

Natasha mentally took a deep breath and braced herself for the pain on her leg, "I have been a mercenary for many years now. I was passing through Khyiteeria and encountered those gentlemen. They hired me as a guide and interpreter. It had been so long since I had been back in Red Star territory I thought I would be safe."

 

"A mercenary? Where?"

 

"The Lands of Jade mainly. Protecting 'plantations'. When I left the State there were very few places I felt I could hide successfully," the heat was building again and Natasha clenched her toes in concealed agony.

 

"The Lands of Jade is an inspired choice. The temples and shrines there would provide a great deal of concealment..." the old man said almost to himself then addressed her again, "So you returned to Khyiteeria because?"

 

"I was homesick. As I said I did not think anyone would be looking for me or even recognize me after all this time. After Khyiteeria I was planning on heading to Temnyvod and see my family."

 

"You know your mother and father are dead?"

 

"No! No, I did not," Natasha was saddened by this news and let it show on her face.

 

"A transport accident two years ago. You should have visited sooner it appears," a feral glee danced across his wrinkled face. As though her sorrow tasted sweet.

 

"Where are they buried?"

 

"The Central Cemetery. After we have finished I can see about arranging a visit for you?"

 

"Thank you Comrade Kommissar. You are very kind," at that statement the glee fled and was replaced with disdain which lingered around his eyes.

 

"Of course. Anything for a helpful and productive member of the State," he replied glibly. 

 

"That is all our duty. To serve the State."

 

"Another question then?" he asked and she nodded in acquiescence.

 

"You disposed of the 'borrowed' vehicle and proceeded to the rail station where the three of you proceeded to annihilate three of my loyal brutes and one of my field commanders that had been placed there to intercept you. You know that's quite remarkable?"

 

"In their defense, it was not a simple task. They were off guard and we were not. It could have very easily gone the other way."

 

"That's what I was told and what I believe as well. Then your group stole a vehicle and was spirited away by a WTA Jumpgate."

 

"Yes Comrade, the Lions were apparently working for the WTA the entire time."

 

"They were? That would explain the sophistication of their jamming protocol. What happened next?"

 

"I was placed in isolation on arrival and questioned, much like you are doing now only without the pictures in Tochoi-Temtsegech. I answered much the same way. Then they offered me a great deal of money if I would continue guiding the Lions. I of course said yes, because they would probably killed me if I had said no."

 

"Go on."

 

"Well Comrade Kommissar, they gated us to Byzant and the Lions said they had a contact that had a boat. Then your team showed up, but you know all about that."

 

"Yes and the WTA agent that joined."

 

"Her name is Diane Bowie."

 

"I know, but thank you for the conformation Comrade Plekhanova, why didn't you mention her before you said my team arrived?"

 

"Because I did not have the hood removed and see her until after the fight was under way. I tried to get away believing that they would kill me after the end of the mission's success or failure so I went up and over the rooftops and landed on top of one of your Sins when I slipped. I'm sure you know what happened next."

 

"It is true that you have terrible luck. Your history does confirm that fact. And yes I know you defeated yet another of my brutes and a field commander who would have killed you."

 

"Then the Lion officer..."

 

"Captain Brooks-Wilde?"

 

"Yes but he ordered us to call him Sir Albert. He is a extremely vain man."

 

"Really? That is useful information Comrade."

 

"Well he tracked me down, I didn't know how then, but I found out later he had planted a tracker on my hook. Anyway he pulled me along to the market square where I got shot. Then he sent the Ghuri off to get transportation while the three of us fought back your agents and another two of your brutes."

 

"The three of you being the WTA agent, the Lion Captain, and yourself."

 

"Correct. Who is Sir Albert anyway. He does not seem as weak as a typical Lion."

 

As far as I can tell, he is a deep cover operative of a particularly nasty portion of the Lion Intelligence service as well as a member of their Shock Trooper equivalent."

 

"A Commando! That makes sense considering his skills. Then that Ghuri was one as well?" Natasha asked innocently.

 

'Oh yes, most certainly," the old man steepled his fingers and put his glasses back on. "Continue."

 

"Well we took the vehicle to the coast where we slipped onto a smuggler's vessel that transported us across the Cold Sea. I had discovered the tracker during the crossing so I decided it was safer to leave my equipment behind in case more had been tampered with. When I saw the coast line I dived overboard and barely made it to shore without dying. Then the local security picked me up. When I saw your people arrive I thought they were going to kill me so I panicked and ran. Then your field commander caught me and here I am."

 

"So this mission, where were they headed?"

 

Natasha opened her mouth to say far to the north and west but what came out was, "Nokgorka. They definitely were headed for Nokgorka. Something about a stack of files and a sword."

 

"So that's it!" a triumphant look spread across the old man's face. "Return to your cell, dinner will be waiting for you, and freedom too in a very short while I'm sure. Dismissed Comrade!"

 

Natasha got to her feet trying not to wince from the waves of pain that roiled from her seared leg. She made it back to the elevator without any obvious limping, and with her two minders was soon descending to the cell block.

 

Only one thought was passing through her head now, "Baba Yaga...What is your scheme?"

**An Offer**

She was returned to her cell by the same means she had left it. After her minders had left her there, a small cart wheeled its way through the darkness and delivered from a sealed compartment, a tray with a bowl of stew, some bread, and an orange, before wheeling its autonomous way back to wherever it had come from. She stood at the cell entry and saw three more carts making deliveries, and took careful note of which entries they stopped at.

 

Eating her meal did not take very long and she wondered what to do next, finally deciding since the Black Kommissar was so intrigued by her dancing career she would oblige him. Taking off her heavy boots she pulled the foam pad off her bed and began running through the basic barre stretching exercises while standing on the concrete slab.

 

She started off with the Plie of course. Facing the fall she placed her feet in the first position, a straight line beneath her shoulders heel to heel, and slowly bent her knees keeping her back straight and her heels on the floor.

 

After two she shook her head and stripped off her trousers leaving her in her panties and turtle neck. Returning to her start position she performed twenty more Plies. Each time dipping deeper and deeper until finally she was raising her heels slightly in a Grand Plie. Twenty Grands later she began rising up on the balls of her feet in Eleves. After forty of those she went to the small sink and drank several handfuls of water before returning.

 

Then it was time for the Tendu. Starting in the fifty position, with both feet touching, the toes of each foot against the heel of the other, she centered her weight on her rear foot and slowly slid her front foot to the front then keeping her leg as straight as possible, to the left and to the rear finally returning to the fifth position. She did this exercise twenty times with each leg and then finished up with sit-ups, push-ups. and leg raises. Putting on her boots to give extra resistance to the last. 

 

Finally she took off her boots again, this time slipping out one of the items hidden in the lining and concealing it in her palm, and after pulling her pants back on lay on the bed with her coat as a blanket as she rolled back and forth trying to apparently get comfortable on the thin foam pad. She took the small knife she had palmed, and under the guise of her movements, cut the lining out of one of the sleeves and then slit it into strips. These strips she tucked back into the sleeve along with the knife and then tried to get some rest with the long coat pulled over her head. 

 

When she woke, she performed her exercises again before stripping down and rinsing herself off with the cold water from the sink. As she was wondering how to dry herself off one of the autonomous carts arrived delivering breakfast of kasha and another orange, tooth powder, a small bar of harsh soap, and a small thin towel. Still, they were an improvement over the nothing she had had previously. So she washed again and got dressed, returning the blade to her boot lining in the process. 

 

Now all she could do was wait. They tried confusing her on the passage of time by switching around mealtimes sometimes as short as three hours between the two sometimes as long as fourteen, but Natasha wasn't fooled. One of the items in her boot was a small watch and compass combination, which she would check before she settled down to sleep and after she woke up. She knew, even though she had received ten meals, she had only actually been there for three days. Having a frame of reference was a great comfort as the never ending light, the bland meals, and the complete silence weighed upon her.

 

After the fourth meal she received a set of clean panties and a bra, along with a small trash receptacle which she moved her empty food trays into. The same happened after the eighth meal as well. Finally after the tenth meal and sleep she awoke to find her minders standing outside her cell door.

 

"Come with us. You will be having breakfast with the Kommissar," were the smoke woman's only words of greeting. Natasha nodded and rose, pulling on her boots and walking to the entry. She had a small thin garrote made of braided strips of coat lining, wrapped around her left forearm under her sleeve. She wasn't sure it would be at all effective against either of these two however.

 

The trip to and up the elevator was uneventful save for the guard at the security booth leering at her when he thought the smoke woman wasn't looking. Natasha simply shrugged. The hazing she had received when becoming accepted as a Shock Trooper, had been far far worse than merely being ogled while bathing.

 

Finally they arrived at the Kommissar's office, this time however she was shown to a small antechamber where there was a table set for two and a sideboard loaded with a breakfast buffet.

 

The old man was already seated and eating scrambled eggs and bacon while reading a sheaf of documents.

 

"Please Starshyna, help yourself!"

 

"Thank you Comrade. It feels like I have been down there a week. I understand you must be careful of course," She helped herself to eggs, sausages, and wheatcakes before sitting down across from him.

 

"You said feels. Why is that?"

 

"Standard disconnection techniques. Confuse the subject's perception of time and you weaken their resolve with the desire for accurate information."

 

"Very good. You have been down there for three days."

 

"Why are you telling me this? Doesn't that corrupt the effect?"

 

"Simply because your story is ringing very true. Agent Bowie was just assigned to a special operation regarding Lion assets. These Lion assets were on a long term mission to infiltrate and steal certain documents and materials. Also I have received notification through some of my good neighbors that a tall female Fleet veteran was working as an enforcer for a fairly powerful Lands of Jade entrepreneur for the last several years. Amazingly enough you seem to be telling the truth."

 

"I said I would Kommissar."

 

"So you did. Unfortunately it has been my experience that those who say they will tell the truth and do, appear far less likely than those that say they will tell the truth and don't. It has forced me to become rather cynical and untrusting I'm afraid."

 

"Kommissar, may I ask a direct question?"

 

"Certainly. However, I do not guarantee an answer."

 

"Why am I being treated so well? What have I done to deserve such largesse? I have killed several of your operatives including two when I was captured."

 

"You intrigue me. Not only are you an exceptional combatant, your survival against the brutes and the sins makes that perfectly clear, but you are an artist as well. I have been watching your exercises, and I truly believe the ballet lost a great prima ballerina when your growth spurt occurred. Also I would like to recruit you of course," he dug into another serving of eggs.

 

"Recruit me? Why, when you have such amazingly powerful agents already?"

 

"Brutal Urges, Secret Sins, Good Neighbors, and the others are powerful of course. But they are disposable. Human agents, and not those gun toting morons you may have encountered, are more flexible in execution of plans and are capable of originality. You are a survivor and extremely dangerous. I would much rather have you working for me than against me. The obvious decision is offering you a job."

 

"But what about my desire to save the individual rather than the State? Doesn't that pre-dispose me to be untrustworthy?"

 

"You are clever. Of course it does. That is why you will have a good neighbor with you at all times to help you mind your orders. Given the choice between permanent incarceration alone with no other human contact for the rest of your life and eventual death, or employment which would you choose? Mind you, the rewards available to those with a certain lack of ethical boundaries can be quite substantial."

 

"And if I fail?"

 

"The good neighbor tells me and I have you brought back here for a serious...discussion of the problem. One I am sure you will not enjoy. After that, there are other uses I could find for you. 

 

"Now, you have had a sample of what life is like in the cells. I will give you twenty four hours, and the meals will be spaced twelve hours apart, to decide. The bonding cannot be done involuntarily after all."

 

"May I finish my toast?" Natasha asked politely.

 

"Of course Comrade. It is sometimes easier to make tough decisions when you have no other distractions such as hunger."

 

After she had finished Natasha returned to the elevator where her minders were waiting. They rode back down to the cell block when the smoke woman spoke, "So he made the offer. I would rather have you with us than against us as well."

 

"What are you exactly?' Natasha asked.

 

"A merging between raw essence extracted from those no longer needing it and a human body."

 

"So you are made from sin?"

 

"Of course, just like our companion here is made from rage and hate."

 

"So brute is from..."

 

"Brutal Urges," the ogre finished, "I was made to destroy."

 

"I assume your's weren't voluntary bindings?"

 

"Of course not, not for creations like us," the sin answered. "We are produced as needed and with whatever flesh is present. We all turn out looking the same however. Ah, here we are."

 

The three stepped off the elevator and proceeded down the hallway to the stairs. Soon they were passing the security station with a different guard posted in it. As they walked down the dark hall under the protective cone of light the stepped over an empty guard's uniform lying in a rumpled heap on the floor.

 

The sin looked at Natasha, "The Kommissar's orders. He does not appreciate disrespect given to his people."

 

"It doesn't eat clothing?" Natasha gestured at the darkness surrounding them

 

"It only hungers for flesh."

 

Soon she was back in her cell. She had twenty four hours to escape and was in an apparently impregnable facility. She smiled to herself as she started her exercises. She would leave as soon as she was done.

**Escape**

Natasha finished her exercises, washed her face and made sure to leave the tap dripping, and pulled off her boots, removing the items she had hidden in there including the remaining strips of coat lining and pulled her pants back on, slipping out another one of Baba Yaga's gold coins in the process and concealing it in her waistband.

 

The small items went into her pockets while the lining she kept balled up in her hands. Stepping over to the entry to her cell she looked out into the blackness . Then she looked to her left towards the security station looking for the trace of light from the upper hallway. Once she located it, she fixed the location in her mind and grasped the gold coin in her waistband with her telekinesis slipping it out while keeping her body between the camera bubble and the dark hallway. After it was free from her clothes, she moved it out at a height of about ten feet and until it was in the exact center of the hallway. Freezing it there she turned around and lay down on the bed pulling her coat over and folding the pad as she adjusted her position, still keeping the coin hovering in position. She counted the water drops from the sink tap that she had left dripping at one per second from when she had washed her face. After ten minutes she launched the coin at full speed towards the security station while listening carefully.

 

She heard the thunk as it impacted the far wall. Counting five seconds she jumped from her bed and kicked her boots off, calling one to each hand. Then sprinting from the back of her cell she jumped out and up, locking one of her boots in position at the apex of her leap. Doing a one armed chin-up off that boot as quickly as possible. She extended her arm holding the other boot above her head and locked it in place while releasing the first one. Another one armed chin-up and she was now hanging almost eight feet above the floor with tentacles off darkness lashing below her. As she had thought, the cell block upper corridor had been built so even in case of failure of the lights, the hungry thing could not escape. The slippery walls had been the first clue and the lack of any sort of door to the upper hall had been the second.

 

She continued her climb using her boots as alternate ladder rungs until she reached the machinery grid above. Once there she slipped one boot on while hanging on with the other hand leaving the other boot suspended in midair. Then it was as simple as slipping the other on and monkey-barring along the grid with her hands protected by the rolled up pads in her palms. In a short time she was above the guide rail for the cone of light and climbing up its braces, heading for a bolted down ventilation grill. Then she waited.

 

There was no alarm. As she had hoped the guard monitoring the cameras had heard the coin's impact and gone to investigate finding nothing except possibly a gold coin. He would have returned to his station only to notice nothing untoward until he checked to see what cells were unoccupied when they should be full. At that time he would recheck his monitors to make sure he hadn't made a mistake. Once he had confirmed he would pull the alarm and wait for a supervisor, State methodology was ironclad on some things. But by that time, she would have already made it out of her cell and safely up into the grid.

 

One of the good things about the State in some ways was its inertia. In this case that the concepts of military engineering stayed the same for decades. The same construction techniques that were used when she was on active duty, were old ten years before that and would probably continue for as long as the State did. Placing her fingers on each side of a one way slotted bolt she gripped it with her telekinesis and slowly backed it out. Quickly she removed the other three bolts in turn and suspending the grate in midair slipped into the duct before pulling it up into place behind her. Letting out a sigh she held the grate in place with her fingers as she dropped one bolt after another through the slots and tightened them from the other side. Now all she had to do was wait.

 

She woke up to loud voices below. Peering through the grate she saw several guards in the light cone heading towards her old cell. Soon a sin was there as well. Natasha watched the milling from above and smiled. They would be sealing the exits now and drawing lots to see who would tell the Kommissar the good news.

 

Then the Kommissar would send out his spies, but she was sure that they would stick to places where you would expect to find people. A sealed ventilation system was not one of those, especially if all the entrances were still apparently sealed. She backed up the the shaft until she could not see the grate and tried to fall asleep. Now all it took was patience.

 

She had been waiting in the vent for ten hours after her disappearance had been noticed, according to her watch, and now it was time to move. Crawling slowly back to the grate she looked down at the black hallway. There were no sounds or motion so carefully she unbolted the vent the same way she had re-bolted it; one fastener at a time. When the vent was freed she held it in midair out of the way as she climbed through and refastened it into place. Then carefully climbing down the strut she had used to access it, she made her way on top of the lamp rail to the end of the hallway and a point directly above the collapsing stairway. Then it was just a simple matter of hanging down and swinging into the upper hall.

 

She landed in a silent crouch next to the open entrance to the security station. Pulling her garrote off her wrist she slipped behind the guard monitoring the screens and with one swift motion looped it around his neck and crushed his throat. Soon she had his ID, his keys, his sidearm, and his baton. Moving to the elevator she called it then levered the doors open, using her telekinesis to assist in holding the indicator switch closed. The shaft ended in a service pit ten feet below her which was unsurprising. 

 

She had been already fairly sure that this cellblock was at the bottom of a very secure facility. She was also sure that shaft had been checked very thoroughly after he escape had been noticed which is why she had waited so long. By simply waiting she had led them to believe she was already gone from the facility so now they would be concentrating their search outside.

 

Slipping into the pit she waited until the elevator car had stopped above her before tying herself to bottom with the lining strips. After a few moments the doors shut and it returned to its wait floor hauling her with it. This had been part of her plan as well. All four times she had ridden the elevator, she had had to wait as it was called. Coupled with her time count of the delay from the time the call button was pushed to when it arrived on two different floors, the cellblock and the Kommissar's office, she was fairly certain that one of the unmarked buttons inside was the central admissions floor.

 

When the car stopped she slipped the penlight from the boot cache out of her pocket and shone it around to get her bearings. Then it was a matter of slipping free from the coat lining straps and swinging over to the service ladder. Taking a deep breath and exhaling she slid between the car and the wall and made her way on top; trying her best not make any scraping or bumping noises. Shining her light above her she saw what she expected. The massive sliding security doors that closed off the shaft except for the small slot that the cables ran though. When a secure floor's button was pressed the car would not pass those doors unless the appropriate ID was inserted in its reader. 

 

There was a way to bypass this system though. As she had done below, if a car was called from a floor beyond a secure zone it would wait until it was empty and then proceed, being cleared through by the main switch box. All that was needed was to send the car's controller on its roof a signal telling it it was wanted on the top floor and it would do the rest of the work. 

 

Natasha was definitely no engineer, but as this had been installed, like most State construction, by unskilled prisoner labor, all the leads were clearly labeled so it was simply a matter of sparking across two contacts with the blade of her knife, then jumping on to the ladder so the car's weight sensors would think it was empty. Once it started rising, she simply stepped back on to its roof and rode it to the top, the security doors opening as she approached.

 

Once at the top she squeezed her way past the equipment reels and gears before the car started to descend. Inside the machinery room she quickly found the maintenance door with the lock and alarm on her side. Peeking out through a crack she felt a cold wind blow and saw she was looking across a vertipad at night, the lights of Temnyvod spread out in front of her. She was in the capital of the Red Star.

 

Cutting the alarm wires and opening the door, she saw she was standing on top of one of the many anonymous State buildings that surrounded her hometown. The only structures up here were the elevator housing and a weather station along with the usual assortment of antennas that every one of these kind of buildings possessed. This building was relatively low, only being six stories, which meant that like an iceberg most of it was beneath the surface. If she had gotten out on the admission floor she probably would have still been underground.

 

Her next problem was getting down to street level. Looking around at the sides of the building she saw that they were basically windowless. She headed over to the largest antenna and examined it after a moment she began to climb the structure, pulling the sleeves of her turtle neck over her hands so that her skin wouldn't stick to the freezing metal. When she reached the point where the guy wires attached she began unbolting the the padeye at the end of the wire closest to the edge of the building. With her will's assistance it was quickly undone and the only thing keeping the guy in place was the tension on the bolt.

 

She took two deep breaths and began to pull on the end of the guy with her telekinesis while removing the bolt with her free hand. It took several minutes before she managed to achieve enough force to counteract the tension. Then keeping a grip on the cable end she climbed down the antenna and paid the forty foot cable over the side.

 

After that, it was as simple as swarming down the cable and dropping the last twenty feet into a snow drift. A minute later and she was off into the night.

 

 

**Evasion**

She was cold and filthy but she dared not stop. She ran through the darkness seeking out the bustling residential neighborhoods where she could hide within the bustle of the Red Star's largest city. A light snow had begun to fall; powdering over the grime, and blanketing the city with a hushed silence. Natasha looked at her watch and realized it was the New Year, the first she had not spent with a bottle in her hand in fourteen years.

 

Ahead she saw fireworks being launched as greetings to the change of calender, and the sounds of horns and music floated through the night air. Running onward, she found herself entering into the massive street party that was a Temnyvod New Year. Some businesses were still open so she slipped into an all-night variety store and pulled a box of wet wipes, a hairbrush, a shoulder bag, a long jacket, .pair of gloves, and a scarf off the shelves. She walked up to the clerk and slid across a gold coin which as usual was accepted without question.

 

"Sneaky old woman," she thought to herself, wondering how many deception and confusion protocols were invested in each coin.

 

Heading to a nearby nightclub she passed the doorman a coin and made her way to the restrooms. Then using a sink and the wet wipes she cleaned the grease and dust off her face and hands, and brushed out her hair. Covering her hair with the scarf she headed out again back on to the street and retrieved the pistol and baton from where she had hidden them behind a trashcan, transferring them to the shoulder bag. She then started walking through the crowd, a smile plastered on her face, heading towards the hotel district. 

 

With a wry grin she decided to stay at the Premier, the most prestigious hotel in Temnyvod. Her less than stellar appearance caused the doorman, an individual she easily sidestepped, to attempt to intercept her and keep her from entering. Heading straight to the front desk she requested the manager, idly rapping one of the coins on the countertop.

 

Soon she found herself in the back room where she counted out a relatively large stack off coins and stated that she was avoiding her husband and wished discretion. The manager nodded understandingly never taking his eyes off the stack of gold. She then said that she had had to leave in a sudden fashion and needed clothes and luggage as well as a limousine to transport her to her father's dacha down by the Cold Sea. She had been referred to the Premier by a friend, no names of course! And that this friend had praised the Premier's ability to forget to answer certain questions when appropriately compensated.

 

The manager nodded again. Of course certain fees must be paid, but nothing of what she said was at all impossible or even unusual.

 

Natasha counted out another stack as high as the first and pushed both across the desk before rising. The manager informed her that the tailor would be up to her room shortly and that she had sufficient credit with the Premier to cover any other expenses.

 

Another elevator ride, this time on the inside of the car she wryly thought to herself. A short walk down the hall, and she was situated in a comfortable room overlooking the city. To the east she saw the row of buildings from which she had traveled. And grinned wryly again. 

 

"Baba Yaga," she muttered, "What the hell is your scheme?"

 

Stripping down she ran a bath and as it was filling, ordered a late dinner from room service. She thought about ordering a bottle of vodka for her traditional toasts, but decided against it and simply ordered some red wine.

 

By the time the order was done her tub was full and she leisurely lay in it, soaking the aches and pains of the last week away. Then a knock came at her door. The tailor had arrived.

 

Wrapping her now clean hair in a towel, she pulled on the robe and walked out to meet her. Soon there were a number of neat suits as well as some more rugged twill pants and her favorite sort of silk turtlenecks on her bed. The tailor departed leaving behind a new wardrobe along with a conservative traveling case.

 

During the tailor's visit the food had arrived and soon that was gone as well. Then calling down too the front desk she arranged for a car and driver to take her to Zygii on the Cold Sea coast. Though this was a long trip, almost nine hundred miles, the desk clerk informed her that a limousine would be ready for her at mid-morning. 

 

The next morning she showered, dressed and made her way downstairs to the salon where she had her hair cut and dyed red and her nails done. Then back to her room where she finished packing and back down to the waiting car. It was a YhK limousine, the type favored by high level party members when they were trying to be inconspicuous when meeting or transporting their mistresses. The driver placed her two cases in the trunk and opened the door for her before climbing in himself and beginning to drive south.

 

He drove in the preferred traffic lane through Temnyvod, even though this particular vehicle did not have party plates. The model of the car itself served as a warning to the career of any police or security troop that attempted to stop or delay it. Soon they had cleared the city limits and were heading south down mostly empty highway. Occasionally they would pass a cargo hauler or a military convoy, but the back seat of the limousine was well concealed behind tinted windows.

 

Natasha turned the radio receiver in the back to the State cultural station and listened to patriotic opera. Eventually as the evening approached, the driver was forced to stop for fuel and Natasha took the opportunity to get out and stretch her legs. Beside the fueling point was a small shop with a teasingly familiar fence around the front.

 

Shaking her head in amusement Natasha entered, "Hello Grandmother."

 

"Ah, so good to see you my child! Has it been an interesting trip so far?"

 

"As if you didn't know..."

 

"I do not like tampering with certain aspects of the spirit world. It upsets my bowels and makes me grumpy. That idiot is doing such as you probably saw. Solve the Lions' problem and you solve mine. Tea?"

 

"Thank you. I thought it was something like that after I met my 'host'. Thank you for the protections by the way." she patted the pouch in her pocket.

 

"It was nothing. Wouldn't do to have you be executed after all. Oh no, there is still much you need to accomplish."

 

"And my fellow travelers?"

 

"On foot traveling to Nokgorka. They are currently as safe as possible given the circumstances."

 

"So why did you allow us to be found time and again?"

 

"Oh you caught on to that eh? I have my reasons child. Don't worry yourself over them," she calmly lit her pipe and blew an iridescent smoke ring. "You know, you are a true creation of the Motherland as am I. Cunning and determined no matter what stands in your path, and ready to utilize every opportunity. Pravda would be proud." She blew another smoke ring.

 

"So now what?"

 

"Now, that vehicle you arrived in will have a fault. The driver will forget he even transported you here and will call for repairs. This will give you the chance to slip away. You will find them in the town of Chorn, just north of the White Mountains. I would hurry though. Those Lions are so impetuous."

 

"Thank you for the tea Grandmother," Natasha said rising, "I should probably be on my way then."

 

"Of course. It is always so good to see you though."

 

Natasha stepped out of the hut and found her bags sitting next to her. Turning around she was not surprised in the slightest to find the shop gone. Heading to the fueling station she asked when the next bus east was and if it went towards Chorn?

 

She was informed that it would arrive in an hour or so and no it did not. However if she stayed on it the main station in Belel would be able to tell her the easiest way to get there. She bought a ticket and headed into the restroom. A short time later she exited, now wearing her twill pants, turtleneck, and trusty boots; her makeup and nail polish removed. The fancy suits being left behind along with her luggage.

 

The bus arrived, surprisingly on schedule and she boarded finding a seat near the back. For the next eight hours she tried to sleep as it stopped at every small town between where she got on and the main station at Belel. When they finally arrived at an incredibly early hour of the morning, she was delighted to find that a direct bus to Chorn was leaving in less than twenty minutes and that she could make it aboard in time.

 

In less then half an hour she was heading towards her friends.

**Reunion**

The transport arrived midday in the small farming community of Chorn. As Natasha disembarked, she couldn't help but notice the Sky Furnace looming overhead and the track marks of heavy krawl traffic alongside the battered roadway. This level of Fleet activity was not unexpected though, as the village of Chorn was less than ninety miles from the Nokgorkan border, and it was through areas like this that the rebel forces smuggled the weapons and supplies they needed to continue fighting.

 

She stood just outside the bus wondering which direction she should try locating her friends. Then it was obvious as her eyes lit upon a sign for a bar. Inside the building she stood for a moment letting her eyes adjust. It was filled with soldiers and farmers all talking loudly, and was so packed one could hardly move.

 

She sidled through the crowd looking for any of the recognizable faces. Finally spotting Ganesh and one of the duo at a back table. She soon had pulled up a chair.

 

"Tasha?", it was Diane.

 

"Natasha?"

 

"Da. Where Al and Buffy?"

 

"Trying to figure out where you are...were Tasha. The two of them were really worried when we got to the security station and found everybody there dead. Al was really looking forward to breaking you out too.Ganesh finally persuaded him to head across the mountains to the Fleet staging area here to see if there were any rumors about your location. As I am the only one here with any real amount of Varan, I had to sit in the nasty bar and Buffy had to keep Al from doing something stupid," Diane finished.

 

"Sometimes he can't help himself," Ganesh added, "He has to be the stereotypical Lion Nobleman charging out to save the maiden. Where were you my dear? And what happened at the station?"

 

"Well, I have been guest of Black Kommissar. You know of him?"

 

The other twp shook their heads with Ganesh adding, "That sounds like something Al might know though."

 

Natasha continued, "He in charge of Third Department. Uses strange sorceries. He sent snatch team to get me and bring me to his headquarters in Temnyvod. I escape two days ago. Snatch squad kill all in station. He firm believer in information security."

 

"So the red hair is disguise-ish? Looks really good on you."

 

"Thank you, and yes it disguise so I could flee city. Black Kommissar has spies called 'good neighbors'. They everywhere and not human. They have trouble seeing things near Buffy though, also me apparently."

 

"Why did he want you and how did he find you?"

 

"How? That easy. My picture sent to Kommissariat when I brought in to security station. Why? He wants same thing you and Al looking for. I have more information on that, it files and a sword."

 

"A sword? Al and I didn't know anything about a sword."

 

"Perhaps not, but I gained information about items while in captivity. I would have escaped sooner, but I was hoping to get more information."

 

"Were you tortured?"

 

"Oh no, I left before they could start."

 

"Alright then, can we get you a drink at least?"

 

"No thank you, not until midsummer."

 

"Hmm?"

 

"No thank you."

 

"Alright, Diane, pay the tab and I'll get Natasha back with the others."

 

The short woman nodded and headed towards the bar rail.

 

"Now that you're here," Ganesh said, "All we have to do is figure out how to get across the Nokgorkan border without being killed or captured by either side..."

 

"That only problem? That simple...trust me."

 

The pair left the bar with Diane quickly catching up. After a short walk they arrived at a farm on the outskirts of the village.

 

"We came to an agreement with the owners," Ganesh said as they entered the gate and circled around to a small cottage.

 

"What kind of agreement?"

 

"Financial," Diane replied.

 

"Where did you get money?"

 

"Well Buffy and I might have robbed a bank?"

 

"I have fallen in with criminals," Ganesh added. 

 

"So you were lookout," Natasha asked.

 

"Maybe?" Ganesh opened the cottage door, "Al, Buffy! Look what followed us home."

 

"Natasha?" Al was washing dishes.

 

"Tasha!" Buffy ran over and gave the the tall woman a bone-crushing hug.

 

"Please let go Pchelka. I can not breath...."

 

"Sorry Tasha. What happened? Where were you?"

 

"Sit down, I must tell story from beginning. It starts when ex-soldier living in quiet isolation as trapper, finds burned woman on ground..."

 

Natasha described how she had found Buffy and their first meeting with Baba Yaga. Then she moved on to their journey south to meet Al and Ganesh. Finally she described her capture and imprisonment and subsequent escape and flight south. Making particularly sure she covered the second meeting with Baba Yaga.

 

"A fairy tale?" Al asked disbelievingly.

 

"I've fought two fairy tales and a nursery rhyme," Buffy retorted, "One of those fairy tales killed my cousin, the other nearly had me burned at the stake, and the nursery rhyme nearly took out my entire town. One thing I've learned is that absolutely nothing is impossible when magic is involved."

 

"So, we now have to get to the files in Nokgorka," Al responded. "And to do that we have to get over the border which has Sky Furnaces patrolling from above, and krawls and Red Troopers patrolling on the ground."

 

"Da, what problem you see?"

 

"Okay Tasha, make with the spillage. What's the plan?" Buffy asked accusingly.

 

"You have my pack and hook?"

 

Buffy slid them over and Natasha opened the pack and started pulling out her armor.

 

"It simple. Starshyna Plekhanova of Shock Troopers take shuttle gate up to Furnace," she began buckling on her armor, "With important reconnaissance information. Once there I hijack it with Buffy's help, and send it on new course. You three cross border when patrols get called back. Like I said, simple."

 

"Ooo," Buffy looked excited, "But those Furnacey things are miles long. How do just two of us do the hijacky bit?"

 

"I was trained as Zero. Political operative. Most Shock Troopers get Zero training. In case Furnace Commander decides to leave happy life in State, Zero there to make sure he does not get away. Trained in sabotage and Furnace operation. One problem, there already Zero aboard so we have to stop them from stopping us. That why I need Buffy too."

 

"You are completely mad Tasha," Al said, "I thought I was crazy but,..."

 

"I not crazy. I Varan. As Grandmother said, we all cunning and determined."

 

"So Tasha, do you have a suit of armor for me? I don't think they'll let me just wander aboard on your say so."

 

"Oh no, no armor. Better way," Natasha had finished emptying her pack,"Climb in," she gestured at the protocol enhanced storage.

**Boarding**

The hard part wasn't carrying Buffy in the pack. The hard part was getting Buffy in the pack in the first place. She said she had a complex about things being bigger on the inside than the outside that she had picked up from someone named Andrew's chatter, and was there a long multi-colored scarf involved?

 

Natasha had pulled out everything except her trauma kit and a sweater for Buffy to sit on then helped the complaining woman into the confines. She didn't seal the top as the lack of air might be detrimental to Buffy's happiness.

 

"Comfortable?" she whispered as she slung the pack on to her back.

 

"Been worse...been trapped in a coffin."

 

"I'll let you out as soon as possible. I promise."

 

"Okay Tasha...Just because it's you."

 

"We leave now for Furnace pick-up point."

 

Al gave her a quick hug which surprised her, "Be careful Tasha. You too Buffy." Buffy's hand slipped out from under the pack's lid with a thumbs up gesture.

 

"Right, you will know when we successful. Go then."

 

"How much time will we have?" Ganesh asked.

 

"Two hours at least. Enough time if you get vehicle."

 

"Be careful Tasha and evil-me!"

 

Tasha slipped on her helmet and fastened the chin strap then activated the communications and tactical update protocols. As she thought, she didn't have the updated protocols to decode the communications But the general info feed was live. On a whim she clicked over her system to the reserved Special Operations channels. Surprisingly two were in use which meant there were Shock Trooper teams operating in the area. This could be either good or bad for her plan.

 

When Al had asked her how she still had her Shock Trooper armor, she had replied, "Because you never actually leave them. You may get assigned to other units, but they can always call you back."

 

So now she was jogging across the countryside towards the designated ground transit point for the Furnace. Her hook was locked to her back armor carapace next to her pack, and she was surprised how much she had missed it over the last few days. Even though the pack's protocols reduced its content's weight it still held its mass and coupled with the weight of the full armor, she was feeling a little flushed by the time she reached the pick-up point.

 

"Remember Buffy, do not kill anyone but Kommissariat. They easy to identify by arrogance. I will not kill or seriously hurt Fleet."

 

"No problem came the voice from her pack. I really am not all about the killing of humans. Beating up and making of the harmless? Yes. Making of the dead? No!"

 

"Good. We getting aboard soon. Stay quiet." Natasha walked up to the sorceress supplykaster running the transfer point.

 

"Yes Starshyna?" she said returning Natasha's salute.

 

"Starshyna Plekhanova, N. I. 22nd Special Procedural Troopers. Detached Field Reconnaissance to Sky Furnace Malenkov. I have field intelligence to return."

 

"Why not transmit, Starshyna?"

 

"Old helmet," she pointed at her head, "it lost coding synchronization. My Praporshchik ordered me to return with the data to drop it off and get my helmet replaced or repaired."

 

"What happened to it?

 

"Concussion bomb Senior-Sorceress."

 

"That makes sense. Especially with that...Type 17 isn't it? Vulnerable to those kind of shocks. It's a good thing that not many of those are left in the system. Why haven't you upgraded before?"

 

"But the liner fits my head perfectly Senior-Sorceress."

 

Buffy heard this interchange from inside the pack, but only understood one word in twenty.

 

"You Troopers," the sorceress was smiling and shaking her head, "As long as the equipment barely works and fits comfortably, you cannot stand to exchange it no matter how obsolete it gets. All right, prepare for transport. Do not step through the arch until it flashes twice."

 

"Yes Senior-Sorceress. Thank you Senior-Sorceress," Natasha moved over to the bare metal frame that started glowing blue-green as the supplykaster activated its protocol. Soon it was enclosing a solid wall of light. When synchronization was achieved with the receiving arch on the Furnace above, it flashed twice and Natasha stepped through finding herself on the launch and retrieval deck.

 

The deck Zeks, or convict labor that the Red Fleet used in the dirty dangerous jobs, bustled around giving the tall individual in Shock Trooper armor a wide birth. Before she had put it on Natasha had removed the normal Red Fleet unit crests that had been attached when she served on the Prokiev. Shock Troopers normally didn't use crests as to keep people guessing on their numbers and presence.

 

Heading over to the tech bay she rapped on the maintenance counter.

 

"What you want?" an old zek walked over.

 

"Complete loss of coding sync,"she handed over her helmet.

 

"Type 17? I didn't know we had any aboard?"

 

"I'm a transfer from the Konstantin."

 

"That explains it, they never have any new gear. So repair or replace?"

 

"The lining fits..." Natasha started.

 

"I know how you Troopers think, even you special ones. I have a few Type 24s here, I can swap the lining across."

 

"That would be wonderful! Thank you Comrade."

 

"While I'm fitting the lining, you can explain to me how you are just arrived from a Furnace that vanished a month ago..."

 

Natasha froze.

 

"You are not Nokgorkan. That's a Temnyvod accent if I ever heard one, and you wear that armor properly. You really are a Shock Trooper. Even a regular Trooper wouldn't have it adjusted that way. You have no horns sprouting from your head and I don't smell brimstone, so I would guess you're not Kommissariat," he laughed at that as he continued to work. "So mystery Trooper, who are you and why are you here?"

 

"I am Starshyna Plekhanova...and I am here to borrow this Sky Furnace for a little while."

 

"And you would admit this to a zek because?"

 

"Because you weren't always a zek, and most who serve aboard Furnaces do not deserve the fate the State has given them. When the Furnace lands...and yes, it will land, there will be a distinct lack of Zeros and other reliable crewmembers. A clever man might well gain their freedom."

 

"And the question being, am I a clever man. At one time I would have liked to think so...Now I am not so sure. However, a lack of Zeros is always a good thing, so at the very least I will sit and watch. Who knows? Weather permitting, I may go for a stroll as well."

 

"Good luck with your stroll."

 

"Good luck with your insanity Starshyna!" the zek called out quietly as she headed for the elevators to the engine decks.

**Diversion**

She had entered a small passenger elevator and was fortunate enough to be the only occupant. Soon she was on the staging deck where shift changes, both zek and free, organized before moving to their duty stations. Slipping into an empty women's locker room she grabbed two pairs of duty coveralls and helmets from the supply stack and a tool cart from the ones sitting in the charging bay

 

"Time to buzz Pchelka," she slipped off her pack and helped Buffy out before starting to take off her armor. Buffy stretched and rubbed the circulation in her cramped arms and legs.

 

"Owww, this is not a way for happy Buffys to travel. They become grouchy even towards people they like," she semi-glared at Natasha. "That's an important safety-ish tip in case you missed it."

 

"Noted. Now put these on," she slid the smaller coverall and one of the safety helmets over.

 

Buffy made a face, but quickly slipped off her jacket and pulled on the coveralls over her clothes. Natasha having removed her armor grid the same then packed the armor, hook, and Buffy's jacket into her pack and put it in the tool cart's part storage bin.

 

"I took a couple peeks around, " Buffy said as they exited the locker room. "How big is this thing anyway?"

 

"It medium size. A mile long maybe and three hundred thousand tons. It can probably hold twenty thousand troops and crew."

 

"Wow, and you used to live on one of these?"

 

"For many years. I was first on Taktarov, then Kaganovich, and lastly Prokiev. Now you push cart and lower glare shield on helmet."

 

"Won't that look you know, weird? I mean it's like wearing sunglasses indoors."

 

"It very common for crew with hangover to do such, especially on first part of shift. Now follow me and stay quiet."

 

The pair headed to one of the cages, the fifty man open framed elevators mainly used by zek crews, from their quarters to their duty decks.

 

Natasha opened a panel on the side with one of the tools from the cart and poked around inside the control box. Finding a particular set of leads she snipped them neatly before shutting the box.

 

"Remember that cage number. I disabled command override control leads. Bridge cannot lock out this elevator now."

 

"How did you learn all this stuff?"

 

"Basic Zero training. If you see crew member with leather mask and lock. Kill him or her. They Zero and more dangerous than me."

 

"I don't like killing people."

 

"Alright, then keep busy till I can help. Zero why I need you with me."

 

"They're that tough?"

 

"Da," heading over to a smaller elevator they descended down to the engine maintenance deck.

 

On this deck, which stretched almost the full length of the Furnace, Buffy could see the true vastness of the skyship through the mesh sides of the elevator car. Below her was one of the huge ventral blast chambers of the six that were spaced evenly off into the distance. The origin of the name 'Sky Furnace', these chambers were each capable of firing a blast of superheated gas in a column two thousand feet in diameter, all the way to the ground a thousand feet below burning and melting all in its path. Scurrying around the massive equipment that filled this level were thousands of figures. Some on the deck, and many on a spiderweb of rails in conjunction with a specialized over-garment.

 

"What's that Tasha?"

 

"Combat Grid. It mass transit system on Furnace. Need railsuit to use. Suit powered by grid with many small motors. Very fast."

 

"Cool."

 

"It fun. I used to race with squad mates. To tall and heavy to win much though. You on other hand..." When the elevator stopped on the deck, Natasha walked over to a wall rack that stored many of these railsuits. Grabbing a smaller sized one she returned to Buffy.

 

"Here, I help you put it on," as she slipped and adjusted the harness she gave a whispered series of instructions on how to engage and disengage the motor clamps from the grid finishing with, "It mainly use quick reflexes and agility. You have plenty of both so it no problem."

 

The pair headed over to one of the massive control rooms. Two Red Troopers were on guard duty, along with a Fleet security troop with a sub-machinegun. "In case of zek uprising." was the whispered explanation. "When I attack, neutralize one with gun. He will head for alarm first. Standard orders." Buffy nodded in agreement.

 

"Hold Comrades," one of the Troopers called out as the two approached, "Order pad?"

 

Natasha nodded and reaching into her coverall thigh pocket, pulled out a moderately heavy wrench and sent it at full speed into the Trooper's faceplate. The impact staggered him and he stumbled back. Still maintaining her will on the wrench Natasha slammed it into the back of the other Trooper's helmet, keeping on the applied pressure to force his face into the deck plate.

 

Buffy had meanwhile stripped off her helmet and bowled it at the back of the armed guard's knees as he turned to face the alarm panel, before rushing forward and choking him carefully unconscious as he was falling towards the floor. She turned to face the Trooper that Natasha had first attacked and noted the hook hovering next to his hands. He didn't seem nearly as skilled with it as Natasha, but Buffy knew what one of them could do.

 

Closing quickly, Buffy moved in only to see the Trooper call the hook back to his hands and prepare a block. Slipping one arm past, she finished smashing the visor of his helmet and tweaked his nose before rolling to one side as he tried a slashing riposte.

 

Her next move was to feint a sidekick then do a hands free cartwheel over over the blocking hook and finish up with an arm lock. The Trooper let go of the hook and Buffy nearly got one of its blades in her face as he sent it at her. Ducking just in time, she used her free hand to grab it out of the air as he was starting to back it away for another strike. Now it was her physical strength against the Trooper's force of will. Physicality won, and soon there was another unconscious body on the floor. Buffy looked over to Natasha hauling the other Trooper inside the control room.

 

Natasha looked around. The zeks all were frozen at their stations, and the regular crew supervisors were not sure if they should move or not as two unarmored women had demolished the security team.

 

"Who is Comrade Supervisor?" Natasha asked politely.

 

One of the regular crew raised her hand, "Harm me but not my people. That is all I ask."

 

Natasha smiled and took off her safety helmet, "Do not worry Comrade. The only people that need fear are the truly 'reliable'. I am afraid that all of you must be restrained for the time being though. Pchelka, please tie them up."

 

Buffy rummaged through the repair cart for some wire and soon had all the occupants bound firmly.

 

"Now, we will be leaving and when security finds you tell them one of the eight persons that attacked here mentioned the port ZiK fighter bay was next. Will you do that?" she slipped a gold coin into every one of the conscious individual's pockets.

 

"Yes Comrade. They mean harm to the ZiK pilots and maintenance crews obviously."

 

Natasha and Buffy left, "Now where?"

 

"Bridge of course, After alarm for the ZiK bay triggered. This way to elevator."

**Assault**

They headed back up the staging deck where they placed the cart back on the charging rack. Then the alarm went off. Natasha led the way to the cage she had already subverted and soon they were heading to the top of the Furnace, Natasha changing back into her armor as quickly as possible.

 

When they reached the top she was strapping down her helmet and the newly installed decoding protocols were doing their work. Currently there were reports of terrorist attacks in engineering and in the ZiK bays. On the Special Operations frequencies the lock down order was going out and all Shock Troopers aboard were requested to report to critical hatches. Natasha winced, this was not going to be easy.

 

"Remember Pchelka. No killing!"

 

"Don't worry Tasha. I can do this."

 

They hit the first checkpoint at a dead run, Buffy going high while Natasha slid in low. The guards were normal Troopers so Natasha merely stole their hooks from them while Buffy took them out in hand to hand. Next checkpoint was a little tougher as the three sentries were all wearing armor remarkable similar to Natasha's.

 

"Do we know each other Comrade?" the lead Shock Trooper asked pleasantly.

 

"No, I do not believe we've met," Natasha replied, "I am Starshyna Natasha Ivanovna Plekhanova and this is my associate Buffy Joycova Summers. And you?"

 

"Starshyna Mikhail Pavlovich Gogol. And these are Sergeants Massinov and Kreskin. I think I have heard of you Natasha Ivanovna. You were the one known as the dancer?"

 

"A long time ago Mikhail Pavlovich, when I still served the old men."

 

"And who do you serve now?"

 

"The Rodina."

 

"I am very sorry Starshyna, but I am afraid that is not a suitable answer."

 

"It is for me," Natasha replied, "And I am sorry as well."

 

"For what?"

 

"Buffy get them..."

 

Buffy charged like she had been shot out of a cannon. Covering the fifty foot gap between the two groups in a blink of an eye, she went after one of the trailing sergeants first as he had seemed to be concentrating more on Natasha's conversation than the tactical environment. By the time she reached him she had already grabbed his the leading section of his hook and kept running past using her momentum to run straight up the wall behind him a good twenty or so feet before kicking off and tumbling through the air to land next to Natasha again this time with hook in hand.

 

""Tasha," she whispered, "you have the big guy?"

 

"Da."

 

"Cool," she began doing the manual of arms for quarterstaff, just getting used to the hook's balance and weight. "Tovarishchi!" She called over to the two sergeants, "Moya mladshaya sestra bolyee ugrozhayushchyei!"

 

"You have been practicing?" Natasha was impressed.

 

"Yeah, it's just not as much fun unless the other guys understand the insults and quippage."

 

The now hook-less sergeant drew his knife and the other readied his hook for a throw, while the starshyna moved towards Natasha.

 

Buffy felt the tug on on the hook as its owner tryed to call it back. He was considerably stronger than the regular Trooper she had fought before, so she simply leaped forward allowing him to pull her to him." She felt the hook beginning to be pushed away so she simply let go and continued on her collision course before he could react against her again.

 

"Wheeeee!" With a yell of excitement she executed a perfect flying kick to the jaw and rebounded off the floor behind him like a superball. Back flipping the direction she came from and planting a double heel kick on the other sergeant who had stopped and was in the process of turning to see where she had gone.

 

Natasha was in a hook to hook duel with the Starshyna and was feeling wonderful. It had been so long since she had fought anybody of her own level. Even with her capped blades there was the ringing of metal as the duo launched ranged strikes with the hook while boring in with a punch, kick, or hold to distract from the potentially lethal weapon.

 

 

"I am gratified to see the standards are still high Comrade Misha," she said with an almost feral grin while in the middle of blocking a combination high strike from the hook while diving over a leg sweep.

 

"And I am amazed at your skill Comrade Tasha," the Starshyna executed a spinning strike that barely missed Natasha's tumbling form. "I also see your blades are covered."

 

"I have no quarrel with the Fleet. Only the old men and their minions," she stood up from the tumble and started a Defensive Rotation as a feint before sliding underneath her spinning hook to side kick a kneecap. Slightly surprising herself, she actually connected knocking the Starshyna off-balance and causing him to stumble.

 

Buffy now had one hook in each hand and was leaping and kicking whichever sergeant was closest while parrying the telekinetic driven knives.

 

"Your associate is amazing Comrade," the Starshyna was rolling to his feet, but now he was ever so slightly favoring one leg.

 

"She has a true gift for mayhem," at that moment Buffy dropped the hooks and grabbing one of the sergeants around the waist, proceeded to invert him and perform a piledriver, rendering the sergeant out of the fight.

 

"So she uses her talent to augment her strength only?"

 

"Oh no, she has no telekinesis," Natasha answered and feinting with a slash to his strong leg connected with a will enhanced uppercut that lifted the Starshyna off the floor. Glancing over at Buffy she saw the short woman proceeding to crack open one of the helmets with her bare hands, as she told the sergeants to sit very very still.

 

"Pchelka, time to go!" Buffy blew them a kiss and the pair took off running.

 

"Tasha! You're bleeding!" Buffy pointed at the taller woman's thigh. There was a huge hole in the armor and a heavily bleeding wound. Natasha was starting to feel dizzy.

 

"Trauma kit in pack..." before she started to collapse. Buffy threw the larger woman over her shoulders, grabbed her hook, and started running flat out. 

 

"If I was the Bridge where would I be? Behind a wall of hunky soldiery types of course!" was her commentary as she headed for the largest group of soldiers she could find.

 

The sudden appearance of a one eyed five foot tall woman carrying an injured six foot Trooper in full armor at a dead run froze the squad guarding the Bridge entrance. It was surreal to the point of absurd especially when the short woman jumped completely over them with an apologetic "Prostite pozhaluista, tovarishchi!" in horribly pronounced Varan. They recovered from the momentary stunning effect in time to realize that both individuals had disappeared from sight.

 

Buffy lay Natasha down on one of the imposing structural girders and peeked over the side at the Troopers searching for them below. Pulling out a trauma sheet she removed Natasha's leg armor and wrapped the punctured area as tightly as she dared. Looking through the injectors she pulled out one marked 'кровь расширитель' as it was like the ones Natasha had injected her with. It took a surprisingly long time to finish injecting, Buffy realizing that the Fleet was using the same sort of space twisty stuff on the injectors that they used on everything else.

 

A minute later Natasha blinked her eyes. Buffy clapped a hand over her mouth, "Shh, be mouse like quiet!" she pointed over the side with her free hand. Natasha nodded and Buffy pulled away her hand.

 

"This look like Bridge entry..." the tall woman spoke looking cautiously around. "We are up near ceiling."

 

"Yeah. I had to get us up above the Griddy thing you were showing me so people couldn't peek. How's your leg?"

 

"Better. You did right things Pchelka. This good place. Now we must go. Finish mission>"

 

"But you're wounded."

 

"You have never fought while wounded?"

 

Buffy sighed, "Of course I have, but..."

 

"But nothing. I a soldier. I must continue mission."

**Zero Point Showdown**

Natasha still felt tired, but at least her leg was working properly now. She carefully re-strapped the armor's thigh guard back on before picking up her hook and nodding at Buffy. The short woman scooped Natasha up and jumped the twenty feet down to the closest section of the Grid. Balancing easily on the four inch wide track she ran to the next interchange then dropped another twenty feet, and then another twenty until she was on the deck's floor.

 

"Which way Tasha?"

 

Natasha pointed and Buffy started to run again slowing when she came to a bend in the corridor.

 

"Put me down Pchelka." Buffy complied and Natasha peered around the turn carefully. Since the alarm had gone off all non-essential personnel were confined to quarters, and all essential personnel were restricted to duty stations. That meant in an area like Bridge Access, the only people to be encountered were Troopers. Buffy had evaded a number of them on her run through, but the main Bridge Security doors were ahead. They were massive things, at least five tons each and telekinetically resistant. The only way to open them was controlled through the Captain's Console on the Bridge itself. In front were ten Troopers, hooks at the ready, looking for trouble. 

 

"Pchelka, could you distract them?" Natasha asked and received a grin in response. Buffy turned and jumped up onto the Grid and was soon racing along it towards the guard post. She was soon spotted and yells and hooks greeted her approach.

 

Natasha took a deep breath and concentrated her will on the left door. "It was," as she told herself, "Telekinetically Resistant, not Telekinetically Immune."

 

She finally got a grip with her will and slowly and patiently built up the inward force. Imagining the massive visible locking lugs retreating into their sockets, she concentrated not on the mass of the door, but on the devices holding it closed. Slowly one of the fork shaped catches disengaged with a grinding of metal, then a second, then a third. Now there were only two to go. 

 

She took another deep breath and was beginning her assault on the second to last one, when a slight scuff from behind alerted her to roll to one side.

 

There was a tall individual in the plain black armor and locked on leather mask of a Zero standing there. Their hook was was floating beside their hand and even with the feature obscuring head covering it was obvious by the the posture that they were disgusted with themselves.

 

"You slipped?" Natasha asked accusingly.

 

The Zero sighed and nodded. "Ruined a perfectly good stalk too," it was a rough man's voice. The Zero gestured towards the doors. "Impressive. That is not supposed to be remotely possible."

 

"Correction, it is not supposed to be known that it is remotely possible," Natasha answered getting to her feet.

 

"Spoken like a true professional. Your companion. What is she? Some sort of Combat Savant?"

 

Natasha moved so that she could see both the Zero and Buffy. Buffy was using one of the Troopers as an impromptu shield against the remaining three standing, and had the sword Baba Yaga had given her in her other hand. Apparently reinforcements had arrived, because there were a lot more than four bodies on the ground.

 

"That's a good description. I believe the appropriate title is Ubiitsa though."

 

"Slayer? Is she a new sort of WTA agent?"

 

"Oh no, she works for higher powers."

 

"Well somehow both of you are impossible to track with internal security protocols. Would you mind telling me how that was accomplished."

 

"Well certainly," she floated her hook in the air in front of her and began to reach under her armor, "May I?"

 

The Zero nodded and she fished out a gold coin.

 

"This."

 

"That?" the Zero looked puzzled. Natasha placed the coin on her thumb and flipped it into the air. The Zero's eyes involuntarily tracked it for a second. Long enough for Natasha to send it straight into his forehead as she dove to one side, her hook in a defensive posture. The blade caps slid off in response to her will as she swung at the Zero.

 

Back flipping out of the way, her still slightly dazed opponent dodged the first slash but the second cut a thin groove in his chestplate.

 

"You are very talented," the Zero shook his head to clear it, "well-trained, and experienced. However you have been out true combat for sometime. Your moves are slightly rusty. "

 

"A normal wielder would still have absolutely no chance against you. Even an experienced Shock Trooper would usually lose. Unfortunately, I am much better than that," the Zero sounded almost pitying.

 

"Well, let's see if that is true..." Natasha sent her hook at his legs calling it back at the last instant before he blocked it. The Zero recovered from the overbalancing of the expected defense right before a side kick would have connected with his chest. He cartwheeled to one side in an evasive pattern before sending his hook out. spinning in a flat plain at waist height. The air thrummed with the speed of its revolutions. Natasha dropped flat on her back and watched the gleaming blades pass right in front of her face. Before the Zero could change its course she had placed her hook directly vertical in his hook's path and there was a resounding clang from the impact.

 

She rolled to her feet and soon had her hook back in her hands, the Zero's returning to him as well. She had learned two things. First his reaction time was better than hers and second his skill with telekinesis was weaker. Judging from his current stance he knew this too. He would be keeping at least one hand on his hook at all times to keep her from stealing it, and would be relying on his speed and physical strength to defeat her.

 

Taking a two handed grip on her hook she obliged him, going in for a swing while searching for her edge. He easily blocked it and riposted with a nasty double-edged combination which gouged her left forearm armor. She feinted a punch, then swung one handed. He fell for the feint, but was quick enough to recover and block the true attack with a shoulder pauldron. Sending her blade skittering upward.

 

"You are amazingly fast," she said after another set of strikes and responses.

 

"Thank you, and you are quite deceptive. Unfortunately you are also wounded and are tiring more quickly than I," he gestured at the blood stained hole in her armor. "Surrender now and the likelihood of you being immediately executed is small. You will be much more likely to stand trial for treason."

 

"And then be executed or be sentenced to being a zek? Oh no, that is not in my plans."

 

"Why attack a Furnace then? Those are the only two possible outcomes. Death or imprisonment."

 

"I could succeed. I have gotten this far after all and have gotten you to come after me just as planned."

 

"Just as planned? You wanted to fight me? You don't even know who I am. Why would you want to fight me in particular?"

 

"Not you in particular, merely the Furnace's Zero."

 

"Why would anybody want to fight a Zero?"

 

"Because of your hook."

 

"My hook?"

 

"There is no way for mere telekinesis to force those doors. The inner locking mechanism is not visible so it cannot be affected. However the Furnace's Zero must be able to access the Bridge in case a Captain becomes unreliable...To do so they have the emergency access code in one of the devices in their hook."

 

"That is clever," the Zero sounded amazed.

 

"Thank you Comrade Zero." 

 

"But you still have to beat me to get my hook."

 

"No I don't."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Natasha pointed up at her edge, "She does." At that moment Buffy dropped from her perch on the Grid and plowed into the surprised Zero.

 

The Zero was very very fast, but unfortunately he was still only human.

 

Natasha scooped up the hook and the Zero's hand pressed them together a small panel opened revealing a few small switches. Avoiding the red one marked 'FINAL', Natasha pressed them all and the heavy doors began to swing open.

 

"Good timing," she said to Buffy as they entered the Bridge, carefully stepping around the pile of unconscious and moaning Troopers Buffy had been fighting.

 

"Thanks. I wasn't sure if you wanted to take him though?"

 

"Him? Nyet, he better than I and not wounded. Cheating only safe way to win."

**Plannage Coming Together**

The pair moved into the Bridge area proper. Natasha had her hook in a Defensive Rotation while Buffy stayed close behind her, the Bridge crew's sidearms ricocheting off the spinning metal. When there was a pause for reloading Bufy began disarming them as Natasha headed for the command chair and the Captain.

 

There were close to a hundred on the Bridge. Furnace operators, infokasters, deckkasters, even a few Troopers. All of them froze when they saw the blade of a hook next to the Captain's neck.

 

"Get underway northeast. Altitude, one hundred feet above terrain. Speed, full," Natasha ordered. The Helmsman looked helplessly at the Captain who nodded. and then said.

 

"You won't get away with this! You think you can hold a Sky Furnace?"

 

"Actually no, but I can use one for a little while," Natasha replied. The Sky Furnace shuddered as it began picking up speed. "Steer this course for precisely fifteen minutes!" She waited ten minutes then called out, "Time to go Pchelka!"

 

Buffy came running over with an armful of hooks, pistols and sub-machine guns and dumped them on the deck.

 

"We're really sorry for the inconvenience your Captain-ship," the shorter woman said apologetically.

 

Natasha ran over to an emergency locker, pulled out an arc-cutter, and hoisted the heavy tool to her shoulder. Sparking the plasma blade she turned the cutter on the infokaster's protocol amplification system before running over to one of the massive bridge windows. There she quickly cut a rough semi circle near the bottom of the armored glass. As she was cutting from inside the deckkaster's shield reinforcement protocols had absolutely no effect. Dropping the cutter she slipped through the rapidly cooling hole and was on the outside of the Furnace. Buffy came through after her and gave Natasha a puzzled expression. Natasha clipped the railsuit Buffy was wearing to the external section of the Gris and hung on to her as gravity took its course. Soon they were zooming down the outside of the massive hull until they coasted to a stop near the opening of the most forward ventral blast chamber. There was an access panel there which responded to the controls on the Zero's hook and then they were inside again.

 

"So what did we just accomplish?" Buffy asked, "Was it worth all the risk?"

 

"Border very secure and we not have time to find weak point, so we make one. When attacked Furnace send out alert and all vehicles converge on it. They follow Furnace's route. I destroy main communications so they not able to send all clear or our descriptions for little while. Now we go this way to escape," leading the way through the maze of passages in the bowels of the Furnace Natasha finally stopped nect to a floor to ceiling cylinder about fifteen feet in diameter with a ladde on the side.

 

"Now we go up."

 

At the top of the ladder was a maintenance hatch which was quickly opened. Natasha slid in and started climbing the ladder inside, "Close hatch after entering!" she called down. 

 

The pair kept climbing, "What is this tube?" Buffy asked.

 

"ZiK bomber bay exhaust shaft. They will keep bomber's inside until they sure we gone. They launch fighters now though to look for us on outside."

 

"So this thing fills with jet exhaust?"

 

"No. ZiK's protocol-enhanced rocket propelled. Jet's not as powerful."

 

"Should we hurry before they decide we're gone? I would not do well as a barbecue especially a second time."

 

"Da."

 

Finally they reached the splash bay where the exhaust was actually caught from the ZiKs launches. They could hear commands blaring over the loud speakers and engines starting to warm up.

 

"They decide they need to send out bombers to help search," Natasha translated for Buffy. "We must hurry or get roasted."

 

They started running up one of the feeder pipes from the splash bay to a bomber's launch bay. Buffy quickly incapacitated the highly surprised crew chief who saw two women appear from a location no one should ever dream of being during flight operations. Natasha climbed into the rear seat of the bomber, after knocking out the bombardier and dropping him over the side, then hoisted Buffy up into her lap.

 

"Good thing you tiny," she muttered at the tight fit.

 

"Hey!"

 

"What's going on?" the pilot asked, hearing a commotion behind him but unable to see due to his seat back. He then felt a sharp prick of a knife against his throat.

 

"You should get ready for takeoff and go when ordered," came a low woman's voice from the backseat.

 

"Who are you?"

 

"An unhappy former member of the State. Ah, your craft's ID number was called. You should prepare to launch. Correct?"

 

The pilot advanced the throttles forward as the hatch opened on the side of the Furnace. With a heavy shove of acceleration the ZiK was in the air and climbing. 

 

"Say you have engine trouble, head south, and eject in five minutes."

 

"What!?!"

 

"Do it or breath through two mouths."

 

"After calling back to the furnace claiming engine malfunction the pilot banked south and pulled his eject handle followed by Natasha pulling the back seat's. The small explosive charge rocketed them up and then the parachute opened with a snap. Only Buffy's death grip on Natasha with her Slayer enhanced muscles prevented her from being jerked free by the opening shock.

 

"I was not expecting that!" she yelled over the wind noise at the taller woman.

 

"Sorry, now could you jump free please?" they were about forty feet above the ground. Buffy jumped off at twenty and hit the ground in a tidy roll while Natasha impacted close by. Natasha opened her pack and handed Buffy her jacket while clipping her hook to her armor. Buffy stripped off the rail coveralls and after pulling her jacket on, climbed the nearest tree to look for vehicles or troops.

 

"Time to go Tasha! There is a wall of metal with tracks and three gigantic guns headed this way!"

 

"Three guns? Hydra class krawl. Twenty four crew and eighty troops. Not good."

 

"Not good? It looks like a seriously annoyed office building coming this way!"

 

"Now we run some more," Natasha took off at a sprint. Buffy jumped down from the tree and quickly caught up before throwing Natasha over her shoulder.

 

"Remember the wounded leg Tasha?" she said as she headed deeper into the forest.

 

"Da. Also Pchelka, welcome to Nokgorka."

**Emergency Medicine**

"How far till we meet up with the others Tasha?" Buffy asked as she continued running along. The huge krawl far behind by this time. It had stopped to send out a search team to recover what they thought was a downed pilot.

 

"I not sure. Stop and I check." 

 

Buffy pulled to a halt in an elevated clearing, and set her taller friend down, "There you go."

 

"Do you ever get tired?" Natasha was genuinely curious.

 

"Oh god yes! I will sleep excellently well tonight I'm pretty sure. I really don't have the time or energy to do much yawnage now though."

 

"Amazing."

 

"Yeah well, it comes with the whole slayer package. Strength, speed, healing, endurance, resistance to lots of nasty diseases, drugs, and poisons. Oh, and the combat skills, but those I can and have improved with lots of practice and as I've gotten older I've gotten stronger and tougher too. When I was starting out you could've demolished me without even trying. That telekinesis of yours is nasty especially when used by your devious mind."...Now, I probably would have a decent chance of winning."

 

"Maybe," Natasha responded with a grin.

 

"Oh! When this is over you are soooo challenged to a duely thing! I have to keep up the slayer rep even on worlds where we don't exist."

 

"Good. Now let's see where we on map..." unfolding it, Natasha checked the compass on her hook and sighted towards various White Mountains peaks. Drawing faint lines she pointed to the southeast. 

 

"That way. About ten miles."

 

"Want me to carry you some more?" Buffy asked.

 

Natasha tried her wounded leg, it still twinged, "Da, if you do not mind."

 

Buffy smiled and shook her head, "Of all the weird things I've done, carrying a not-exactly-a-Russian ten miles across a warzone is NOT the strangest."

 

"I Varan. Not Russian."

 

"Statement still applies Tasha. All aboard!" Buffy piggybacked her taller friend and started off at a slow jog back into the woods in the indicated direction. As they headed through the forest Natasha kept an eye on their heading and would tell Buffy when she was drifting off course. After an hour even Buffy was getting tired and she asked for a rest. As she drained one of Natasha's water bottles, Natasha rechecked their position.

 

"Two miles roughly. I can walk from here."

 

"You sure Tasha? That was one nasty wound. Shouldn't we at least check it?"

 

"Da, you right," she unstrapped the leg armor revealing the red soaked trauma wrap. "That not good sign."

 

Carefully unwrapping the sheet revealed a large purplish swelling under the newly closed skin.

 

"What's that?" Buffy asked.

 

"Hook nicked artery. Heavy blood flow kept hole open so did not close fully. Blood leaking into leg causing swelling."

 

"So you still have internal bleeding?"

 

"Da, very serious problem that needs doctor or medikaster soon. First we must drain excess fluid from leg." she pulled out the trauma kit and removed a small scalpel. 

 

"That's not a good idea Tasha. We could nick a tendon or the artery again. Those injectors, are the needles removable?"

 

"Not sure, never checked."

 

Buffy pawed through the kit looking for the empty she had used on Natasha aboard the Furnace. The needle was firmly fastened to the cylinder.

 

"Uh Natasha, hypothetical question here. What exactly happens if one of these bigger on the inside than the outside thingies gets broken? Is there like a protocol-y explosion?"

 

"It depends on size of item. Pack armored so that will not happen," she saw the syringe in Buffy's hand, "That size? Not much I hope. But, they very tough, hard to damage."

 

"Oh really?" Buffy had a predatory gleam in her eye. Laying the syringe on a large rock, she stuck the large bore needle tip lightly into a branch then drew her sword. Resting the blade lightly on top of the cylinder she lifted the blade smoothly up and brought it down hard closing her eyes and turning her head at the moment of impact. The shockwave from the ripples as space readjusted itself threw her backwards and spattered her with pulverized stone and glass. Shaking her head to clear it, she stood up.

 

"Impressive Pchelka."

 

"What can I say? I have a knack for this sort of thing," stepping forward she found the branch, only now with the needle driven into it. Pulling it free with a slight effort, she looked through it to make sure it was clear of any obstructions and returned to Natasha's side.

 

"This will sting a lot I'm sure."

 

"I ready."

 

Buffy jabbed the needle into the swelling and a stream of blood and other fluid jetted out. Natasha applied gentle pressure on her leg to help squeeze out the rest. Then after the needle was removed she re-wrapped her thigh.

 

"That was truly gross you know."

 

"Didn't you tell me you have slain demons with all forms of ichor for blood?"

 

"Well yeah, but they weren't friends of mine."

 

"We had better get moving," Natasha got to her feet and swayed slightly.

 

"That's it! You're traveling Buffy Delivery Service, no arguments accepted," Natasha found herself bouncing along while clinging to Buffy's back and not really sure how Buffy had gotten her there without her noticing.

 

As the pair came down a hill they saw a burned out farm and the scattered wreckage of a few smaller krawls and APCs.

 

"We here Pchelka."

 

Buffy stopped and let Natasha down, "This looks like a trap Tasha."

 

"Da, I feel that too," she called her hook to her hand, "You go left. I go straight."

 

"Gotcha," Buffy faded into the brush on the edge of the abandoned fields.

 

Natasha lay on her belly and began crawling forward through the crop stubble, pausing every few seconds to match her movement with the waving caused by the wind. It took about half an hour until she arrived beside a burned out APC and made her way inside. Peering out a ruined weapon port she eyed the farm house carefully. Eventually she saw the glint of light reflecting off glass from up under the eaves. Then a shot rang out.

 

Looking back towards the woodline, she saw Buffy stumbling forward clutching her chest.

**The Problem**

"Oh no! I think I just shot evil-me!" came an anguished cry from the house.

 

"You bloody did what!?!" was the immediate response and Al burst through the door running at full speed.

 

Natasha stood up and started running in that direction as well, and limped up shortly behind Al to see a healthy Buffy.

 

"Sorry about the scare! I saw other-me all intent and snipery so I wasn't sure how not to get shot. So I decided on the old jacket on a stick trick. She's so stressed out she put a bullet through the shoulder. I mean she shot herself. Willow was right, dopplegangers are really hard to pick pronouns for."

 

"You two are alright then?" Al asked relievedly.

 

"I'm fine, Tasha has a nasty leg wound that her trauma-y stuff won't fix," Buffy replied, "You have any medikaster thingies would you?"

 

"Thingies? You mean protocols?"

 

Buffy nodded.

 

"Not really I'm afraid. At least not the instant curative sort. I do know some stabilization tricks however. I can keep it from getting worse."

 

"That good idea," Natasha added.

 

"Well let's get you inside and out of sight so I can examine you...I mean it."

 

Al and Buffy helped the now seriously limping Natasha inside the ruins of the old house.

 

"I'm so sorry evil-me! I thought you were like, really evil."

 

"It's okay, no real harm was done. Just another ruined jacket in a long line of destroyed outfits."

 

"Where Ganesh?" Natasha looked around the semi-collapsed living room without seeing the Ghuri.

 

"Out scouting the area. You know that stunt of yours caused a near riot in Chorn. I have never seen a bar clear out so bloody fast. Did you know a boarding force of fifty or more Nokgorkans hijacked that Sky Furnace? At least that's what the early garbled signals were," as Al was talking he was helping Natasha off with her armor. Finally her leg was exposed.

 

"Eww?" was Diane's response to the re-swollen thigh.

 

"We drain it once already," Natasha spoke up. "It refill much faster."

 

"Bloody hell. There's probably an arterial tear in there if not a complete cut. You were right Buffy, she needs a medikaster or a surgeon as soon as bloody possible."

 

"Not possible here. Can you do anything Al?" Natasha asked

 

"I can keep it from getting infected and numb some of the pain, but your leg will continue to get swollen until it unlikely closes by itself, or a professional can fix it. If it doesn't get treated soon or close on its own there's a damn good chance of tissue dying off. You could lose the leg then."

 

"Drain it and do what you can. I get fixed later."

 

"Alright Tasha," Al pulled out his component case and got ready while Buffy drained her leg again. There was more whitish goo along with the blood this time.

 

"Bloody wonderful, that's pus. Hopefully I can keep it from getting worse," Al cupped his hands over her leg and pale blue light surrounded his fingers and radiated into her skin.

 

"Ache going away. Feels better Al."

 

"I'll do it again every eight hours or so. You'll be able to move and fight on it, but the chance of something nasty like a blood clot forming is very possible the longer it isn't treated."

 

"I understand. It means we have to solve problem quickly."

 

"Speaking of problems," Buffy asked, "Where do we go now that we're here?"

 

"South. There is a cave in the mountains. Ganesh and I heard about through some gunrunners that we had met in Suden and then ran into again in Khүiteeria. They mentioned something about a protocol source of great power that had been developed during the Second Grand Conflict. They were hiding from the Red Fleet in the White Mountains when they found this cave. They snuck out when they had a chance but one of them took a souvenir."

 

Al reached into an inside pocket a brought out a small journal, "It got a little soggy during our swim and it wasn't in that great a shape to bloody start with. Still, you might want to check out the bit where the bookmark is. Fascinating reading you know?

 

Natasha flipped over the waterstained and bleeding ink covered pages till she got to the indicated section.

 

_7 iii 1933_

_...Ivan is certain that the artifact is genuine and that removing it from its container is an idea for only the foolhardy and the mad. After seeing the effects it presents even enclosed, I am inclined to agree..._

_The General demanded that we show him our progress on the analysis of Artifact S. When we displayed the films we had recorded on its secondary effects on previously implemented protocols he immediately demanded that we secure a means of utilizing it in Temnyvod. In his words the intelligence gathering enhancement that even these secondary effects produce, allows him to justify the entire project to the Premier._

_When he was informed that every attempt to detach the container from the floor had met with a fatality, he was incensed and demanded that he be taken to Artifact S at once. We will oblige the General's orders._

_8 iii 1933_

_We have sent the General's remains back to Temnyvod with the film of him attempting to remove the artifact from its container as proof that we had warned him not to try. The absolute wrath it dispenses must be keyed directly to its secondary effects. As long as it remains in the container it is harmless, but direct physical contact has been so far uniformly lethal...._

_.....1933_

_....woman sitting next to the container....eyes burned right through.........know why we....I responded that I was a scienti.....this was a matter of.........curity. She laughed and vanished without a sound. ......thought I was.....when I ...........about it. The next day he saw her too. Now who's cra...._

_17 vi 1933_

_I understand now. This laboratory must be shut down for the sake of the country. No one must ever find it again. The potential for abuse is too extreme. May Pravda save our souls._

 

Natasha looked up, "This real?"

 

"Oh yes," Al replied, "Very real. And I also have the map to where he found it."

**The Cave**

Natasha had been translating it, for Buffy primarily, and when she finished the short woman was scratching her chin and thinking.

 

"So that's where Lucas stole his ideas from! I have to get back to rub this in Andrew's face!"

 

"Who's this Lucas fellow?" Ganesh asked. He had slipped back in while Natasha was reading.

 

"Movie writer and director. Kind of obsessive about his true vision," Buffy replied.

 

"So Tasha," Al said, "That's the problem. The cave is only about twenty miles from here and if Ganesh has found a vehicle..."

 

"He has."

 

"...as he is a bloody clever sod that way, we can be there in half an hour or so. Do we leave now or wait till morning when both of you are rested."

 

"I vote nap," Buffy said as she raised her hand.

 

"Sleep good. Leave in morning?" Natasha agreed.

 

"Alright dawn patrol it is. We'll take watch..."

 

"Me too! After some sleep of course," Buffy chimed in.

 

"Right. Natasha you will not stand watch and keep as much weight off that leg as possible. Understand Starshyna?"

 

"Da Captain," Natasha recovered the rest of her gear that she had removed to make a Buffy sized space from Ganesh, and laid out her bedroll before settling on it with a sigh. Then there was a shaking of her shoulder.

 

"Rise and shine sleepy head," it was Al's voice. "Sun's up and so are we."

 

Natasha opened her eyes and saw the pale gray morning light streaming through the broken walls.

 

"Morning so soon?" she said sleepily.

 

"As you would put it...Da. Now let me take a look at that bloody bunged up leg of yours. Here, have this cup of tea while I poke and prod."

 

Natasha slid out of her bedroll and shivered in the cold air while gratefully accepting the tin cup Al was offering.

 

"Going to have to lance this again," he tapped her bare thigh gently, "Buffy! Where's that nasty needle of yours?"

 

"Right here Al!" she brought it over and soon Natasha's leg was drained again. This time there was less blood and pus, but more clear sera.

 

Al laid his hands on her leg again, "That might be a good sign or there may still be a large clotted chunk in the artery that could break loose and drift through your bloodstream." The blue glow started around his fingers.

 

"You have such cheery thoughts," Natasha retorted.

 

"I know! I could bloody well almost be a Varan at heart."

 

"Al, Tasha...the sooner this is done the sooner we get Tasha to a doctor right? Let's go," Buffy was stuffing gear into her pack as she spoke while Ganesh was dousing the small campfire and Diane was keeping watch outside.

 

"Good idea," Natasha started putting her armor away in her pack keeping out her light vest.

 

"Not wearing it Tasha?" Buffy asked.

 

"Nokgorkans would shoot me on sight."

 

"Oh yeah..."

 

Al headed outside to start the small hauler Ganesh had found somewhere, and with a rattle and a choking gasp the engine turned over. The others headed outside and insisted Natasha ride in the cab, where she would at least be out of the wind, while they piled into the back.

 

Then they were off going up lightly used dirt roads, where vehicles had not turned the semi frozen ground into gigantic channels of mud. Soon they were driving on firebreaks in the foothills of the White Mountains. So far they hadn't seen even the smallest sign of life except for a few birds and a deer. The air was quiet except for the sighing of the wind through the trees and growl of the motor.

 

Finally they arrived at what looked like an old and abandoned stone quarry. Rusting machinery lay around and the tin walled shacks creaked and groaned in the breeze. 

 

"This is it," Al said and drove the hauler under a roofed shed with no sides. All five piled out and cautiously surveyed the area.

 

Diane spoke up, "So they must have dug into the cave when they were doing the stone-cutty thing."

 

"Makes sense," Ganesh replied. "Some of this equipment is almost a hundred years old by the looks of it."

 

"If I was a bloody secret entrance to an underground cave where would I be?" Al was looking around at the snow dusted wreckage.

 

"Probably wherever they were digging last. I mean, if what other-me said is right."

 

Al started walking into the notch cut into the mountainside looking up at the power cables that had been strung from what was probably an old generator building, "Or you could follow the bloody electricity..."

 

The other four followed after him. They caught up to see Al staring at a collapsed chunk of cliff with the cables disappearing under the rocky slabs.

 

"Suggestions?" the Lion officer asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

"Al..." Ganesh said with an accusatory tone.

 

'Alright alright. Nothing up my sleeve and bloody presto..." blue light started streaming out of a rupture in the air in front of Al's outstretched hands. It swirled around to form an almost wire frame replica of a large multi-barrel cannon with a gun shield. Al looked behind him, "You lot might want to find cover!" as he picked it up and placed it on his shoulder.

 

There was a scramble as the other ducked down behind old digging equipment. When Al was satisfied on their safety, he began to fire. Each barrel fired in turn launching a projectile made also of that blue energy. They flew the twenty feet forward and hitting the rock, exploded in a burst of silent flame and force tearing chunks of stone away with each blast. The rock splinters were stopped by the gun shield and the digging equipment, but it was quite eerie to see this carnage being inflicted with only the sound of the rock exploding and the pinging of the splinters being heard.

 

At one per second, slowly the explosions chewed through the barrier. After a minute there was a hole eight feet across and three feet deep. After two it was six feet deep, and after five it was fifteen feet deep. Al's cannon vanished and he sat down shakily.

 

"That protocol takes a lot out of you," he mumbled as he drank from his canteen.

 

"How much further?" Diane asked.

 

"No bloody idea. It will be a little while before I can do that again."

 

"Let me try," Natasha stepped forward and concentrated one of the rocks at the back of the hole Al had dug. she got a grip then first tried calling then sending it. Trying to break the particular slab free. After a few minutes there was success as she pushed it clear. Buffy and Diane climbed in and were soon hauling the loose chunks out with their enhanced strength, and soon were scraping out the rock chunks that Al's cannon had created while Natasha kept ripping away at the barricade.

 

"I am so going to need a mani-pedi after this other-me. Have any recommendations on a good place to get one done?"

 

"Yeah, there's an awesome Dragon shop in Thomastown, right by where I live. "

 

"Cool when we're done we are so going!"

 

"It's a date!"

 

Al shook his head at the dialogue and got to his feet, "Find some cover. Here we go again."

 

Once they were clear the firing started up and soon the shells were traveling into darkness.

 

"I'm bloody through!" Al shouted.

 

Natasha fished her helmet out and activated the vision protocols. Looking down the newly excavated tunnel, she saw it expand out into a larger room with what looked last a guard shack in it.

 

"This it!" she started moving in followed by the rest. Al created a floating orb of blue light and balanced it on his hand illuminating the new area. It was a natural cave with a floor that had had concrete poured over it to make a firm and smooth foundation. There were a couple of old corroded military haulers and transports parked on one side and the guard shack next to a massive pair of steel doors that were currently ajar. Ganesh gave a low whistle and the others turned to face him.

 

"This rockslide was well made. See, there are the blast points and the detonator lines," he pointed out wire traces corroding on the floor.

 

"They blew up the bloody entrance to keep it hidden. Now I'm really bloody curious." Al muttered.

 

None of the others could disagree with that.

**Water Again**

Now Al took the lead, glowing sphere still on his hand, the other four following him past the warped doors into a large tunnel going deeper into the mountain. His protocol light gave everything a ghastly monochromatic look with razor sharp shadows. Buffy had her sword out, Ganesh his wind blade, Diane her pistol, and of course Natasha had her hook readied; As they descended into the eerie blackness.

 

The floor of this otherwise natural tunnel had been covered with poured concrete and there were places where the stone had been blasted away to allow vehicles more room to travel. Lubricant and tire marks were on the floor and the smoky blackness of exhaust stains were clearly visible on the lower parts of the ceiling.

 

"How deep are we?" Diane asked.

 

"No bloody idea," Al replied, "Though it does feel like the entire mountain is sitting on us."

 

"I did cave clearing in Al-Istaan. This feels different. Like walls alive somehow," Natasha shuddered.

 

"I felt something like this before in Suden," Ganesh added. "The rebels had used some ancient protocols to directly summon PHE and bind it as conscious creatures."

 

"I thought PHE is the power that was released when somebody dies? This is sounding a lot more like necromancy," Buffy said accusingly.

 

"Necromancy? Isn't that directly conjuring the dead or some such?" Al replied. "That's awfully primitive a technique to use to get PHE. It's so much easier to tap the power directly."

 

"I said they were using ancient methods. Ones developed before the protocol techniques were codified I imagine," Ganesh clarified.

 

Natasha noticed that Buffy still didn't look pleased, but at least now she looked like she was thinking hard about something as they continued their travel deeper and further forward.

 

They finally arrived at another set of steel doors. This time they were both swung wide open and revealed a massive cavern.

 

"Bozh Moy! That lake!" Natasha's outburst was correct. The five were standing next to a poured concrete dock with a few boats tied up to it. This dock extended out fifty feet or so into a huge underground body of water. Next to the dock were a few simple metal buildings. The power cables that had run from the generator building at the quarry disappeared into the water's edge.

 

"So not expected," Diane added.

 

"I'll check the boats," Ganesh offered, "Maybe there's a chart in one of those buildings?"

 

Natasha nodded and reactivated the vision protocols in the helmet before entering the nearest building. Inside was a mess. Anything wooden had rotted and all metal had corroded. Probably from the humidity. Ripping open desks and file cabinets, using her hook as a prybar, she quickly determined that there was nothing salvageable in here.

 

Heading over to the other building she saw Buffy and Diane eying a massive safe.

 

"Problem?" Natasha asked.

 

"Not if you have any explosives."

 

"What evil-me said. The lock is rusted junkage so I can't even try to crack it."

 

"I try. Hold safe still." 

 

While the two smaller women braced the metal box with their considerable strength, Natasha placed her fingers lightly on the rusted dial.

 

"Very old model. Not resistant. Close eyes, may be dust," concentrating, she easily ripped the lock dial off the safe, then peeled off the welded security plate like it was tissue paper. The internal lock mechanism was next to go as she found her telekinetic grip on it. Finally she felt inside the lock chamber for the ends of the locking bars, and one at a time pulled them into their unlocked position. 

 

Looking at the two other women she said, "Hold tight and keep fingers away from door," as she began to rip against the rust holding the door closed. With a groan and a hiss the door was torn open revealing more moldering documents.

 

"Nope," Buffy said, "Was not gonna be that easy..."

 

Diane was poking around, "Got something here." She pulled out a rusted metal dispatch box and snapped the lock off. "Whoop! We have achieved readable trash!" she carefully pulled out a pair of mostly intact document cases marked 'совершенно секретно'.

 

"Top Secret? You have found something interesting," Natasha took the first folder and broke its seal. Inside were some images of a large stone casket with writing carved onto its lid.

 

"Let me see those," Buffy asked. Natasha passed them over and opened the second case. Inside were pictures of a large, cross-hilted, primitively forged, sword inside the afore pictured casket. It was fastened down with what looked like leather thongs threaded through holes in the casket's base.

 

Buffy was staring intently at a closeup of the carving. Diane nudged her, "Can you read that?"

 

"Well yeah...Verum est eius donum. Dolo erit expungi. It's Latin, a language from my world. It's used a lot by the Catholic church...Church of the Risen Son."

 

"So it's like Etru?" Diane asked.

 

"Probably exactly like Etru, as English is exactly like Lion, and Russian is exactly like Varan. Anyway, on my world Latin was used by scholars in the past as a universal language so they could pass each other notes. A lot of magicky...protocoly stuff was written down in it. I ended up being able to read a lot of it due to research parties."

 

"What it mean?" Natasha asked.

 

"Well the first part hits really close to home for me, 'Truth is her gift.' A phrase almost exactly like that prophesied my dying the second time."

 

"And second part?"

 

"Deceit or Lies will be expunged or gotten rid of," Buffy scratched her head, "Tasha, isn't your goddess named truth or something?"

 

"Da, Pravda means truth."

 

"So that must be her sword..."

 

Al shouted, "Ganesh is a bloody genius! We have a running boat that isn't leaking too bloody badly!" from outside the shack.

 

The three exited the building and were soon down on the dock, not seeing the blocky figures hiding in the shadows by the tunnel entrance. As the boat pulled away a secret sin stepped forward, "Search the buildings and see if they missed anything. Good Neighbors!"

 

Two shadows peeled away from the wall.

 

"Follow them and one of you report back when they stop." the shadows slipped into the water.

 

"My Kommissar we are so close..."

**Casket**

The boat was metal and rusty and might have been leaking slightly, but somehow Al and Ganesh had gotten the motor started and running on the ancient fuel that was left in its tank. Now it was limping its way across the underground lake while threatening to expire at any second and giving vast gouts of black smoke at irregular intervals. Ganesh was crouched next to the decrepit motor and alternately speaking to it encouragingly and smacking it with a wrench whenever it seemed inclined to stall out. So far this technique seemed to be working.

 

There was a heavy mist over the water and aside from the sloshing of the waves, it seemed to mute all sounds including the erratic thudding of the engine and Ganesh's muttered blessings and curses. Suddenly Buffy stiffened.

 

"We're being followed," she whispered.

 

"Are you sure?" Al asked.

 

"Yup! Spotting futile-ish attempts at stealth by evil stuff is one of my party tricks."

 

Diane spoke up after scanning the water behind her, "My composites' vision protocols don't see anything. Can you tell if it's human or not?"

 

"Slightly human-ish? Feels icky, but weirdly human. More like a ghost or a shadow of a human."

 

"Black Kommissar has very strange servants formed from PHE. Sins and brutes two of them. This third?"

 

"Maybe? It does kind of feel like the ogre-y guys and the smoke women."

 

Natasha smiled to herself.

 

"What's that grin for Tasha?" Diane asked.

 

"It nothing. Good fight maybe coming up," the tall woman sat down next to Ganesh.

 

"You're lying Tasha," the Ghuri whispered very very softly in her ear.

 

"Da."

 

Ganesh shook his head and went back to coaxing the engine onward. A short while later Al called out 'Land Ho!' and jumped over the side to help guide the boat to the rough metal pier. Once it was tied up they headed ashore. There were three large metal buildings here, and the power cables ran into the first one. Inside was a great deal of damaged electronics and machine tools along with some rusted weapons. The second one contained the remnants of bunks, tables, chairs, and a kitchen. The last was divided into offices. Unlike the offices on the shore however, all the materials here seemed to have been burnt and intentionally destroyed, not just simply abandoned in place.

 

"Looks like they didn't want anybody continuing their research," Ganesh noted.

 

"Simple failure on a secret project like this can lead to death or imprisonment. Intentional destruction of State resources and files...that can lead to worse," Natasha added.

 

"Hey guys! Evil-me found something!" the call came from outside. The three exited the office are a to see Diane and Buffy. Buffy had a living shadow gripped in one hand and her patch flipped up exposing her good eye.

 

"Tasha, can I keep it? It followed us here."

 

"Are you a good neighbor?" Natasha asked the black shape which stiffened at the words. "Huh? I guess you are. And you have friends close by I would imagine." No reaction this time. "Well I'm sure your friend has gone back for help then. The Kommissar is not one to take chances." The shape sagged slightly.

 

"Pchelka, let it go. It spy, not fighter. It has friend that already escaped."

 

Buffy looked puzzled but released her grip.

 

"What was that bloody thing and why did you want it let go?"

 

"It called Good Neighbor I think. Creation of Black Kommissar. Used as perfect spy. Kommissar does not understand what he playing with with Buffy. How long patch up?"

 

"That's how I spotted it. I felt the creepy peeper sense go off again, so I flipped it up to take a better look. Saw it right away. It stopped moving so I suppose the other effect was working too. Then I just walked over and grabbed it." 

 

"What happened to the eye?" Diane asked.

 

"Lost it on the way to this world and a really scary person gave it back to me. It has a side effect of breaking spy protocols."

 

"How did they track us then?"

 

"I am completely clue-deficient on that."

 

"It probably cannot bloody remember what it saw here then," Al mused. "Good. Buffy keep your patch up so they can't gain any useable information."

 

"Want me to stay here to stop any pursuit?" Buffy asked.

 

"No, but an early warning would be nice. As soon as you feel them coming close go to us."

 

"Where we be?" Natasha asked.

 

"Wherever the artifact is naturally. They didn't set up this advanced camp simply for fun, so there has to be another cave on this island." Al answered. "Let's start looking."

 

As the island wasn't very large it was a short search to find the cave. It was closed off by a locked set of chain-link gates. After Natasha had broken the lock with her hook, the four entered a narrow twisting passage that corkscrewed down.

 

"This is not natural," Ganesh noted, "the walls are too smooth, but I don't see any tool marks."

 

The others looked but had to agree with his observations. After descending thirty feet or so, the passageway opened up into a small chamber with a large stone sarcophagus in the center. Natasha and Diane both recognized it as the one in the images. Fitted to the ceiling was a chain hoist now rusted almost beyond recognition that had obviously been used to remove and replace the lid as needed.

 

Natasha eyed the lid and started to focus her will. Slowly the foot thick slab of stone rose, and was moved to the side where she set it down as gently as possible.

 

"Bloody impressive!" was Al's reaction.

 

The four stepped over to the three foot tall open stone chest and peered inside. There was a large sword made of some metal that looked almost black in the weird glow from Al's light orb. The blade was almost four feet long and the hilt another foot added to that. The crossbar was a plain metal strap and the hilt was wrapped in some rough material, probably for grip. There were no signs of any engraving or ornamentation of any part of the weapon. It lay on the bottom, balanced on three small stone supports under the tip and the ends of the crossguard. It was secured by lengths of what looked like leather cords tied around the weapon and passing through holes in the supports.

 

"Well, that isn't files..." Al said bemusedly.

**Trapped**

"Captain, I see you still have those legendary powers of observation," Ganesh commented.

 

"Bloody comedian..." grumped Al.

 

"So," Diane spoke up, "Judging from those journally bits, trying to untie it would fall on the side of bad trending towards fatal?"

 

"Da, I believe so."

 

"Well, let me take a look at it and see what kinds of protocols are locking it down," Al summoned his wireframe scanner and studied the glowing display for awhile before dispelling it.

 

"So Al?" Ganesh asked.

 

"Oh this is bad...very very bloody bad. It has at least three interlaced security protocols of a kind I've never seen before, and one that I have that has no known counter without at least three kasters to provide shielding. That is, if you're not the individual it's keyed to of course. If you are you can probably just reach in and take the bloody thing."

 

At that moment Buffy came running in, "Guys, there's an army arriving! And they seem pretty unhappy!"

 

Diane readied her sub-machine gun and started heading towards Buffy to back her doppleganger up. Then Natasha whistled loudly.

 

"No! Do not fight or do fight but let them capture you. Trust me, I have plan. Buffy, flip down patch!"

 

"Tasha are you sure about this?" Buffy asked.

 

"Very sure, I do not think they can see you Pchelka. When we captured, you follow."

 

"Okay I got it. Let them do all the hard work and bring us to the boss. Other-me, give me your weapons, Tasha, give me your hook."

 

"Good idea sneaking them in could make things easier," the tall Varan mused and she tossed Buffy her hook and her Trooper knife. Soon the shorter woman had all the group's weapons and Al's component case tucked into Natasha's pack. "I'll get out of sight now, be careful all of you! I'll be really mad if you get hurt." Buffy slipped into the shadows..

 

Al grinned, "Well let's look like we're bloody busy at least!"

 

Natasha placed the lid back on the sarcophagus and the rest started using wedges and crowbars as if they were trying to pry it off. Then the army arrived.

 

A voice in thickly accented Lion called out, "Do not move or you die!"

 

"Does breathing count?" came Al's response.

 

"Prichinit yemu bol , no ne ubivaite yego!"

 

"Tasha?"

 

"Hurt him, but do not kill him," she translated.

 

"Oh bloody hell," Al had just taken a step back when an ogre came charging out of the darkness and slammed into him sending smashing into a wall. Al stood and shook his head. "I am so certainly not going to bloody enjoy this." He ducked the ogre's swing and punched it quickly twice in the jaw.

 

Diane was wrestling with another ogre and Ganesh was punching and slicing a third with his wind blade. Then a sin slipped down and past the brawling groups and wrapped a smoke coil around Natasha's neck.

 

"Surrender or she dies!"

 

Al froze and was hit with a punch that bounced him off the wall again before he dropped like a rock. Ganesh stopped attacking and simply continued to dodge and block until the ogre stopped. Diane had already beaten the first one and stopped as she was heading towards her second target.

 

"Excellent, you all not complete idiots. Vy dvoe, otkroite sunduk!"

 

The two ogres she pointed at lumbered over to the sarcophagus and slid the lid off.

 

"You three come over here!" she pointed at Diane, Ganesh, and the slumped heap that was Al. Diane scooped up the unconscious Lion officer and carried him to the indicated position. Natasha was still wrapped in the smoke.

 

"Sushchestvuetmech zdes..." one of the ogres called out after peering inside. 

 

"A sword! That's what the Kommissar wants! Bring it here!" the ogre reached in and was consumed by bright red flames which left only a charred skeleton.

 

"Ouch!" Diane commented, "I'm glad we didn't get it open."

 

"You get sword WTA agent. Bring it to me."

 

"I don't think so. I really would rather you kill me than let that sword do it. Then you have to do the splainy thing to your boss on why you killed a WTA agent instead of interrogating them."

 

The sin looked apoplectic.

 

"Comrade Sin," Natasha spoke up, "Why not transfer the whole sarcophagus? Just leave the sword inside until the Kommissar can figure out how to remove it. He is a genius after all."

 

"Comrade Plekhanova, that is actually an excellent idea, you eight lift it, the whole container!"

 

Eight ogres stepped forward and hoisted the heavy stone chest up to their shoulders. The sin released Natasha, who moved over to check on Al's condition, and produced a small box from inside her suit jacket. She placed it on the ground and stepped back.

 

The box began to unfold into a larger and larger structure until finally it was an archway ten feet tall and fifteen feet wide. It began to pulse with green light and soon a gate transport protocol activated. The ogres with the case entered first, then Natasha and the others were prodded through then the rest of the sin's troops and finally the sin herself. Soon there was nothing left in the cave but a archway that was folding itself smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared in a flash of green light. Nothing remained but darkness and quiet.

 

Then a young strong voice spoke, "And you are sure this will work?"

 

An old voice answered, "Of course. Has it not all gone according to the plan?"

 

"I suppose it has. I am still worried. He is a very powerful individual."

 

"That's why it will work. You'll see, never fear. Now we should be going. I simply can't wait to see what happens next!"

**The Kommissar**

Natasha found herself in a familiar cell. Her jacket still lying where she had left it. There was however a door fitted into place at the entry, instead of just an opening. She couldn't help but grin at that.

 

Standing up she pulled on her jacket and looking up at the camera said loudly, "I have something to tell the Commissar about that sword." Then she sat down on the bed and waited.

 

Soon she heard the whining of the light cone and with a clank the door was opened, a sin and an ogre stood there. Natasha got up and walked to join them. Once she got into the cone of light the door shut.

 

"You will find it is not so easy to leave now, I believe," said the sin.

 

Natasha nodded, "Perhaps," she said as she walked along. When they arrived up in the Kommissar's library she was surprised to see Diane and Ganesh, but not Al, seated and gagged.

 

"Sir Albert?" she asked, puzzled.

 

"Very dead I am afraid Starshyna," came the Black Kommissar's raspy voice. "That impact he sustained seems to have been quite serious. A fractured skull is far more serious than that nasty injury to your leg." The old man walked out from behind his desk, "I have already introduced myself to your associates and I must say thank you for leading me straight to the sword. It was not precisely the agreement we worked out, but it accomplished much the same as any future information you would have given me. Why did you escape?"

 

"I thought you would kill me anyway and I wanted to see my parents graves before I died."

 

"And did you Natasha Ivanovna?"

 

She shook her head, "No, I could not find them."

 

"Pity. I'm sure they are very nice. How did you find your associates?"

 

"I went back to our hide and found a message Sir Albert had left me. Where they were heading."

 

"And then there was that magnificent attack on the Sky Furnace with your associate Agent Bowie," the Kommissar pointed at Diane. "An advanced composite interface it appears she has. It will be a pleasure ripping it free and analyzing it. And that attack was solely a diversion to open a whole for the other two to slip through. Very clever."

 

"Thank you Comrade Kommissar."

 

"You mentioned that you thought you would be executed. Why?"

 

"This is Third Department. It is what you do to people who ask questions about it. Isn't it?" Natasha made sure she sounded puzzled and the coin pouch was heating up again.

 

The Kommissar made a tch-ing noise and nodded, "I am afraid my section does have that sort of reputation. And must agree that it is not entirely undeserved either. But you had not done anything to incur my wrath. In fact you answered all my questions without the faintest trace of deception. It seems like your escape was merely an incident of bad judgment on your part, and that happens to us all...even me. I believed that my cell's security measures were more than ample and yet you escape without a trace of how you did it except for a dead guard almost eleven hours later. Obviously I made a mistake, but I'm still not sure what it was. Can you enlighten me?"

 

"I am afraid not. I was not the one responsible for my departure. I left by the blessing of Pravda. I prayed to her and she answered. Perhaps if you pray to her she will answer?"

 

"Ah, that's it. You found religion on your journeys?" the old man's voice sounded poisonous.

 

"Yes. I suppose I did Comrade."

 

"Well then your faith shall protect you I'm sure."

 

"From what?" she answered the old man.

 

The Black Kommissar pointed towards the sarcophagus, now incongruously placed next to the large conference table, "Remove the sword."

 

"I was right. You will kill me."

 

"Not at all. If your faith is strong, you will survive."

 

"Tasha," A faint whisper sounded by her ear, "Tell him about the writing on the lid. Tell him it read 'Potentia est donum. Infirmitate erit expungi'."

 

"But we hadn't even deciphered the words on the lid...We don't even know what this sword is or who it belonged to," Natasha said quickly to the Kommissar as two ogres approached her to assist.

 

"Words?" the old man turned to face the sin, "You never mentioned any words!" the sin shrunk back in fear. He then turned back to Natasha, "What did it say?"

 

"Something in Etru I think, Potentia est donum. Infirmitate erit expungi. Whatever that means."

 

"You're certain?" his piercing eyes were turned upon her and she felt the coins heat up.

 

"Very certain. Sir Albert seemed to know what it meant but he wouldn't tell us."

 

"Heh, an arrogant fool like that would want to keep it a secret. It means 'Power is the Gift. Weakness shall be Expunged'.

 

Natasha mimed shock, "So that's why he wanted it! To claim his father's position?"

 

"Possibly. Now Comrade, bring me the sword."

 

Natasha shuddered and walked over to the sarcophagus. As she looked into it, she wondered if the Commissar had even conceived of any other way of removing the sword from its tie-downs without sorcery? The great rule was still in place for even such as he; telekinesis or sorcery, never both.

 

Passing her hand just above the ties she sent her will into them. They were resistant but still manipulatable. Undoing first the one at the tip then the two binding the crossguard down. No red flames scorched her, so she moved both hands down to the hilt, and carefully sent her will in, calling it to a point a fraction of an inch away from contact with her hands.

 

Keeping her hands curled to maintain the illusion of grip she slowly walked over to the Kommissar and laid the blade on the table in front of him. 

 

"Amazing! Your faith did protect you." His eyes glowed green and then faded to their normal black, "and the security protocols are completely gone. Excellent work Comrade Plekhanova."

 

"Thank you Comrade Kommissar," she slowly started edging away from the table as the old man stared at the blood red sword, "May I get some treatment for my leg now?"

 

"Hmm? Why yes of course," with one smooth move the Kommissar scooped up the sword and neatly severed Natasha's wounded leg mid-thigh. The blade was so sharp she felt no pain, just a slight tugging sensation. "I do not think you will be escaping so quickly again."

 

Yanking her belt loose, she quickly wrapped it around her stump and pulled it tight as she collapsed on to the floor.

 

"You see Comrade, with this I can take my position to truly lead the Red Star instead of that fool Imbohl. All I have to do is call upon the power of the sw..." suddenly, he was grabbed from behind by a pair of skeletal hands and dragged into a rift in the air. The sins and ogres gathered puffed into clouds of foul smelling smoke shortly thereafter.

 

Natasha dragged herself over to Ganesh and started to untie his hands. Soon both of the captives were freed.

 

"So, where Al?"

 

"In medical I think," Ganesh answered, "Wait a second you knew he was lying?"

 

"Of course. That what his kind does like breathing. Now get me to medical before I die for real," with that Natasha collapsed.

 

She woke up on a small hospital bed with Buffy, Diane, Al, and Ganesh staring at her.

 

"Pchelka, where were you?"

 

"Sorry Tasha, I got given the interfere and everything explodes badly speech. I had to stay out of it, this was your country's fight not mine."

 

"Who gave speech?"

 

"Who do you think? Grandmother dear."

 

"Now what happened up there Tasha?" Diane asked.

 

"Sword is sword of Pravda goddess of truth. Kommissar survived by lying to death so convincingly that he was never claimed. Once he called upon power...Well, you saw."

 

"Death was grumpy?"

 

"Da Diane."

 

"So what was this bloody all about?"

 

"We bait. Used like fishing lure to draw Kommissar to sword. Baba Yaga tricky. She knew that if it just revealed to him he suspicious like any good Varan. If he had to track down and lost agents in process, then it real."

 

"Did Baba Yaga tell you that?" Buffy asked.

 

"No. Why would she need to? I Varan. Cunning and deception in blood. It obvious plan to person being bait."

 

"Well she owes you. Taking you away from your peace and quiet. And you losing your leg. She owes you big."

 

"I did this for my country, not for me. But this not feel like my country anymore. I have been away long long time."

 

"So why was Baba Yaga so anti-Black Kommissar?" Diane asked.

 

"Human souls," Buffy replied, "That's what PHE isn't it?"

 

Al nodded, "But not what you think Buffy."

 

"Oh I understand magic pretty well, first off being there's always a cost. I saw you when you used that cannon-y thing. It wore you out pretty quick. You had to be using personal energy for that. The smoke women and the ogres, the Kommissar seemed to have a buy one get one special on them. He never ran out. That's because he was directly converting souls right?"

 

Al nodded again. "There were a lot of protocols that used direct conversion, but they were outlawed back at the end of the Second Global Conflict. They can be incredibly powerful and unbelievably bloody dangerous."

 

"Protocol Nukes..." Buffy shook her head.

 

"And I was not happy about that..." an old woman's voice said. Buffy and Natasha were seated in the old woman's hut with cups of tea in their hands. Baba Yaga was blowing a smoke ring.

 

""The others?" Natasha asked.

 

"Home safely. I'm very sorry about your leg but there were severe limits on what I could do."

 

"I understand. Now about you two. Buffy Joycova, I can send you home easily enough if you wish. I can't do anything about the eye though I'm afraid. That was all Pravda and even I can't go against her."

 

"So you two came up with this scheme when Buffy arrived?" Natasha asked.

 

"Well yes. Neither the goddess or I was pleased about what was going on so we combined our abilities. The little one here arriving was a perfect instigator because she tends to bring out the best in everybody.

 

"Hey!"

 

"Well you short," Natasha added. 

 

"Big meanie..."

 

"Anyway my children, what do you wish?"

 

"If Pchelka...Buffy goes home, I wish to go with her."

 

"What?"

 

"Whattt?"

 

"Da. I said this is no longer my country and that is true, I have fought my last battle for it. I am very tired."

 

"There is a country much like this on her world with many of the same problems but from different sources."

 

"Buffy has said as much."

 

"Well,I guess you two had better be going then."

**Natasha Redux**

Natasha Ivanovna Plekhanova lived a simple life out on the edges of the Yukon Territory of Canada. She had a small house which she used as a base, spending a great deal of her time running the lines of traps she had set for fox and sable. She slept most nights out under the stars. Only returning home when her sledge, in the winter, or her travois, in the summer, was full. 

 

Once home she spent her time cleaning the hides and preparing them for the traders that came by the town of Red Flint that was two days travel from her house. Not that Red Flint was much of a town. Three buildings. One a bar, one a general store, and one a gas station for the trucks that thundered by.

 

When she got to town on her twice yearly trips, she scrupulously avoided talking to anyone except the lead trader and the proprietor of the general store. The trader to make a deal for her pelts, the storekeeper to purchase the few supplies she needed. Ammunition for her rifle and shotgun, salt, a large bag of sugar, some wool yarn. She made sure to arrive on the rainiest or coldest days she could to keep from accidentally meeting fellow travelers in passing and never removed her hat or her scarf. In the store she asked for things by pointing with one gloved hand and she always merely nodded or shook her head during the negotiations with the traders.

 

The quality of her furs was always excellent and she paid the store in cash so neither trader nor storekeeper bothered her with any talking. Most individuals had no idea of her name or gender and simply called her "The Trapper". Sometimes a bright young fool would get the idea that there might be even more money wherever she lived or on her person. They would follow her into the vast woods and if they were lucky, would merely get lost and not killed by the weather or wildlife.

 

At home she spent her time making and repairing her clothes with bone needles and gut thread or knitting socks and mitten liners, preparing her hides, tending her small garden, and hoping that eventually some of her memories would fade.

 

Each night, whether she was on the hunt or at her small cabin, she said a prayer to Pravda the Goddess and Spirit of Truth, so that she would protect those that had fallen where Natasha had not. Every New Year and Mid-Summer's Eve she looked at a bottle of vodka and shook her head . The next morning she would head out to the woods and begin trapping again.

 

And so she lived. Solitary and sad amid the beautiful forests of Western Canada. Occasionally hunters or Canadian Armed Forces would pass through her area on training and survival exercises, but they never knew she or her cabin were there. She made well sure of that. But even those intrusions were extremely rare. Where she was, no one else wanted to be. It really was as simple as that.

 

 

**ENDNOTES**

A few notes.

 

Shock Troopers are equivalent to Soviet or Russian Spetznaz. His Majesty's Commandos are equivalent to the UK's Special Air Service.

 

The reason that Natasha has that speech pattern when speaking Lion(English) is that the Varan(Russian) language does not have the verb 'to Be' in the present tense. That means no 'is' or 'are'. Also the indefinite article 'the' is not present in most cases.

 

In addition all the place names not from the comic are derived from synonyms or close forms to the roots of the original names from 'our' countries. This is true for both the lands of the Red Star, the WTA, and Kyiteeria so far.

**On Telekinesis in the Red Fleet**

 

The Red Fleet recruits for telekinetic potential. Only about 1 in 50 has it and they are predominately males. Females usually have a higher potential for sorcery. This not to say that it is impossible for either gender to have either (see Natasha...), but it is impossible for one person to have both.

 

Out of that 1 in 50, only 1 in 10 has the strength acceptable to be trained in the Fleet as a Trooper. the rest serve in other roles. Most Troopers can manipulate up to about two to five pounds with ease and top out at twenty pounds capacity or so. They can send and call their hook, perform a basic Defensive Shield Rotation and use it for relatively minor effects. Telekinesis is not physically tiring per say, but can require a great deal of concentration.

 

There are three classes of material that have effects on Trooper telekinesis. Telekinetically Neutral, Normal, and Resistant. Telekinetically Neutral materials are protocol invested so that telekinesis is more effective and takes less concentration to utilize on them. Hooks, certain knives, specialized types of steerable ammunition, and most Red Fleet grenades have this classification. Normal materials are just that, materials that can be manipulated with an average level of concentration. Telekinetically Resistant Materials are protocol invested so that they cannot be moved or affected except by the most powerful telekinetics and even then it takes incredible amounts of concentration and time.

 

Living sentient organic material or material in contact with a living creature's Fillipov Aura cannot be effected either, with certain exceptions (using will to boost strength and releasing an item for a split second to anchor it in place then grabbing it, being two of them).

 

Highly experienced and trained Troopers can handle weights up to multiple tons. Natasha is capable of handling two hundred and fifty pounds without even trying and move it around freely up to fifty feet away, double that distance if telekinetically neutral, and with concentration could probably move close to twenty  _thousand_  pounds. This would not be easy by any means, but she could do it and she is far from the most powerful telekinetic in the Red Star.

 

 

Marcus Antares, one of the heroes of the comic, can potentially move more than 200,000 pounds with the force of his will and shift it within a hundred feet. Double that distance if telekinetically neutral. So yes, he could pick up a main battle tank, lift it one hundred feet in the air, flip it over and drop it.

 

The Red Fleet does not issue rifles to Troopers...they don't need towhich also brings us to this.

The comic creator's description of the Hook...  
_"The Red Trooper's primary weapon is a telekinetically enhanced hook, configurable for either close-combat or ranged use. It's a 4'-6' long "Swiss-Army Knife," capable of serving as a compass, sundial, flashlight, splint, or even a cooking spit; special attachments can be fitted when assigned to turn it into a sniper rifle, machine-gun, or mortar as well. Trained Troopers can spin the hook in a "Defensive Rotation Shield" capable of blocking most projectile weapons and other forms of ranged attacks_."

 

The only characters I used from The Red Star were Imbohl and Pravda. All the rest (with the exception of Buffy of course) were OCs. That includes Natasha obviously. I feared writing certain parts of her because I realized how close to a Mary-Sue I was treading. Hopefully the Sue-ishness was minimal. She was based on the concept of 'What would you get if you gave a Navy SEAL or an Army Ranger telekinesis?' That level of determination, creative thinking, and ruthlessness would be unbelievably nasty in my opinion.

 

Most of the town names and country names of the World of the Red Star I made up as the comic books are quite focused and why haven't you read them yet? Also the timeline has been seriously modified because I wanted the Red Star to still be "Internationalist" but still have the Nokgorka problem.

****

** Place Name Equivalences **

 

URRS/United Republics of the Red Star/The State/Lands of The Red Star = Soviet Union

 

WTA/Western Trans-National Alliance = USA

 

Al-Istaan = Afghanistan

 

Nokgorka = Chechnya

 

Isles of the Lion = United Kingdom

 

Byzant = Turkey

 

Kyiteeria = Mongolia

 

Lands of the Dragon = China

 

Lands of 10,000 Gods = India

 

Gall = France

 

Aregon = Spain

 

Tuscan Peninsula = Italy

 

Suden = Africa

 

Lydia = Asia

 

Great Continent = Europe

 

Eastern Wastes = Siberia

 

Desmond VP = Washington DC

 

Del Santos = Los Angeles

 

Onka = Ankara

 

Bystrekuz =Irkutsk

 

Lake Tsveryc = Lake Baikal

 

Tochoi-Temtsegech = Ulan Bator

 

Temnyvod = Moscow

 

Stone City = London

 

And as Tasha might say

 

Udachi!! (Good Fortune!!)

 

BZG

 


End file.
